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&^L£5qBL£\NEBN 



THE> BDs/& <5K!C PRE; fS 



CHICAQO 



Of this book there have been printed 200 
copies on Van Gelder hand-made paper > 
and 2 5 copies on Japan Vellum; this copy 
being number sp» 



1 






TNE LIBRARY OF 

tess, 

Tag C^i IBS Rechveo 

NOV, 25 1901 

COPYKIQMT iNTHr 

/ ^3 f) 

goK . 



>•• • 



: Cvfyrigb'tJpdi by i • . •' 
Langworthy &? Stevens 



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Since sorrow is his lot, fytfidt 

How happy man must be „ 

When Death refuses not IJ*^' 

His swift benignity. 

But, oh, how happy, Sweet, 

The dust that hurries by, 

Or, trod beneath thy feet, 

Has yet no breath to sigh. 

Eternity is dumb, 
A sphinx unto our prayers, 
Alike to all who come 
She only sits and stares; 
And yet behind those eyes 
Is thought of thee and me; 
Perchance in silence lies 
Enough of destiny. 

Sans wine I would not live 
In this unfeeling state; 
In every cup I give 
A hostage unto Fate. 
When I no more can drink, 
Oh, nothing shall I fear 
Although upon the brink 
Of this dissenting sphere. 

Thou art my Yusuf flower, 
Thy mouth is set with pearls; 
Thou hast me in thy power, 
Thou rose of dancing girls. 
And why? Because, my bloom, 
I love all roses well — 
The thorn that counsels gloom, 
The petals that dispel. 



£)mar 



In this wide world of care 
I sought a resting place, 
/ But only rested where 

I looked into thy face. 
Thy beauty was to me 
Like an oasis lone, 
And in the heart of thee 
The fount that fed my own. 

Think you the Deity 
Counts all the cups I drain? 
Of small account must be 
Such idle work and vain. 
Forever He has known 
That I would drink my wine; 
Oh, let it not be shown 
I question His design. 

Come hither, Sweet, and bring 

A flagon of the best, 

That I may drown the sting 

That rankles in my breast. 

Fill up the glass again 

Before the potter old, 

To please the needs of men, 

Makes flagons of my mold. 

Drench me when I am dead 
With my most pleasant wine; 
Let no long prayers be said — 
Sing lyrics of the vine. 
And when you seek my shade, 
(If you shall seek me, Dear), 
Remember how they fade 
Who have no lovers here. 



mn$ 



Who cares to prophesy dDttt&f 

Of what shall hap to-morrow? _~ 

If we shall live or die, vj*£' 

Or dwell with joy or sorrow? 
Delightful Star! drink deep 
Of wine the while 'tis flowing; 
How long the dead do sleep 
There is no way of knowing. 

Let whoso loves be proud 
To call some heart his own; 
When cares upon him crowd 
He shall not be alone. 
Let Fortune fly the door 
To nevermore return; 
They only, Sweet, are poor 
Whose altars fail to burn. 

The true philosopher 
Sets not his heart on gold, 
Since wealth is but a burr 
Within his garment's fold; 
A snake that deeply stings 
The breast that warms to life; 
A dragon of the springs 
And higher paths of strife. 

Behold, beloved one, 
The season of the rose! 
How hath the golden sun 
Exiled the traitor snows. 
How happy, too, am I 
In summer such as thine; 
Thou art my laughing sky, 
My music and my wine. 



mn$ 



(jTSfttftY Come, speak and tell me true. 
<£"Ul what haye j done tQ thee 

(jye$ That thou, O Wheel, shouldst do 

Such grindings unto me? 
From town to town I rove; 
My bread — an idle dream, 
My roof — the kindly grove, 
My wine — the laughing stream. 

14 I passed a potter gray 
And saw what he saw not, 
That 'twas my father's clay 
He fashioned to a pot. 
And when he glanced aside 
I kissed the gentle earth, 
As he had kissed his bride. 
Say, what are kisses worth? 

1 5 Man — like unto a glass, 
His soul the wine that fills; 
A hollow reed where pass 
What strains of life He wills; 
Or yet a lantern gay, 
Wherein a light is trimmed, 
That soon shall burn away 
And leave its husk bedimmed. 

1 6 Since life so niggard is 
In dealing with mankind, 
But momentary bliss 
In its short span we find. 
Our hopes, our strivings claim 
The substance of the heart; 
Too late, too late we came, 
Too soon, too soon depart. 



wheel of circumstance, (J^tttAt* 
And thou, most stubborn Fate, 7^ 
What matters if it chance (JvC/ 
The heavens be seven or eight? ftUYkfr 
Be happy while you may, -J 
The present is your staff. 

To-morrow? Yesterday? 

1 give such dreams the laugh. 

O Poet! why this grief 
For things undone or done? 
Why bind into thy sheaf 
Remorseful tares for one? 
Forgiveness, mercy — they 
For those who sin were made; 
Repent and go thy way, 
And be no more afraid. 

No one hath passed behind 
The veil that hideth God, 
And none may ever find 
The path no man has trod; 
The bosom of the earth 
Is our last resting spot; 
What dreams therein have birth 
Our sleep remembers not. 

Fill up, fill up the bowl, 
And yet another measure, 
And I'll divorce my soul 
From everything but pleasure; 
The daughter of the vine 
I'll set to woo a season; 
Fill up the bowl with wine 
And lock the door to Reason. 



eun<j 



foyftffl Beloved, full of grace, 
' Of witcheries and wiles, 

(JvC' Come, let me see thy face, 

Thy dimples and thy smiles. 
I can no more refrain 
From gazing at thee, Dear, 
Than turn this cup and gain 
The wine I scatter here. 

22 Of Wisdom and of Wit 
Seek thou the company, 
And rather than to sit 
With fools, thy country flee. 
The poison of the wise, 
If offered to thee, drink; 
The antidote despise 
If fools tip off the wink. 

23 My well beloved one 
To me again is kind. 
May all her days the sun, 
As mine the shadows, find. 
She gave me one bright smile, 
A fleeting glance she gave, 
Thinking, no doubt, the while 
That straws the drowning save. 

24 The Koran, which men name 
The book of Holy Writ, 
Grows musty in the fame 
Of truths that laugh at it; 
The while the verses of 
The motto on my cup 
Are luminous with love, 
And sweet to those who sup. 



eun^ 



25 Count not yourselves too good (f)tft/ll* 
In putting by the wine, n ^ 
And then in haughty mood \J*£' 
With greater evils dine. 
True temperance is built 
Upon a broader plan, 
They only merit guilt 
Who put aside the man. 

26 Oh, would that I might drink 
Of living truth so deep, 
The tomb to which I sink 
Grows fragrant with my sleep. 
I may not know the plan 
For which I was designed, 
But let me waft o'er man 
An Araby of mind. 

27 Arise ! Whatever power 
Gave man ascendency, 
This is the place and hour 
That he should freeman be. 
Should man condemn the wight 
Who does as he designed? 
Can He condemn the light 
He kindled in the mind? 

28 Than some true heart — what more 
On earth doth mortal need? 
Say, what the stormless shore 
Of any hope or creed, 
If one call not his own 
A friend who loves him well? 
The heart that beats alone 
Encircles all of hell. 






Destruction is thy scheme 
Thou Juggernaut of Fate; 
Alike the hope and dream, 
The lowly and the great, 
Thou crushest in thy path 
As they were nothing worth, 
Until, to please thy wrath, 
One mighty tomb is earth. 



30 When this green earth is gay 
And bounding is the blood; 
When suns with cheerful ray 
This fair green earth do flood, 
Let me with pleasant friends 
This happy green earth roam, 
Ere all of pleasure ends 

In this green earth, our home. 

3 1 Each morn at break of day 
The busy world I meet, 
While fast do run away 

My dreams with lightsome feet; 
Yet in the presence, Lord, 
Of those forgetting Thee, 
Let Thy uplifted Word 
Still rear a home for me. 

32 In every cup of pleasure 
We find the rue of grief; 
In every golden measure 
Is found one bitter leaf; 
And we can never fashion 
A paradise so fair, 

But some old friend of passion 
Shall climb and haunt us there. 



0Utt<£ 



33 Choose thou the middle ground (fVftAt 
Whereon belief shall stand; „ 
Deem not the Known as sound, (J>£/ 
The Unknown merely sand; 
So shall thy strength be such, 
Whatever blast may fall, 
Loss cannot harm thee much 
Nor rob thee of thy all. 

34 From those who never fail 
To babble, turn aside; 
E'en from the nightingale 
Thy inmost secrets hide. 
What hells, what heavens lie 
In hearts that none may see; 
What griefs, what joys go by 
In masks, unceasingly. 

35 Since Death doth come so soon 
To shatter us like glass, 
While yet it is the noon 
Of youth, let baubles pass. 
The world to us should be 
A happy dwelling place, 
And the proud soul stand free 
In thought's great market-place. 

36 Oh, long among the roses 
I lingered deep in thought; 
In all the garden closes 
I found not that I sought — 
The one and perfect Beauty 
My soul desired to see; 
Perchance, 'twas only Duty 
That stirred the heart of me. 






(rttHAV ^ s bright quicksilver slips, 
So runs this life away, 
C/ And all our many ships 

Return no more for aye. 
O Earth, thou cheating dream! 
O Life, that trouble brings! 
By what resplendent stream 
May sorrow fold her wings? 

3 8 The slaves of Love are we, 
In whom we fondly trust, 
Oh, happy sprites if he 
Vouchsafe to us a crust. 
Let others worship Fame, 
Or any god they choose, 
But I will kindle flame 
To Love — and to the Muse. 

39 Praise not the skies nor blame 
For any weal or woe, 
Since they unto the same 
Eternal ocean flow 
As that to which you tend; 
The stars are merely dreams 
That twinkle to their end 
Adown what mystic streams ! 

40 Though with the morning's wings 
Aspiring thought may fly, 
The still elusive springs 
Of life beyond us lie. 
Subdued, chagrined, alone, 
Again to earth we fall, 
And in the little Known 
Salute the sphinx of All. 






mn§ 



Oh, lost in love to-day, d^ttldf 

And sundered from the chain ^ 

Of our gross selves, we may \J££' 

That highest House attain 
Wherein the soul, arrayed 
In its celestial power, 
May question, unafraid, 
The Action and the Hour. 

What Spirit in this wine 
Gives music to my tongue? 
What eloquence divine, 
As I again were young? 
Lo! miracles unmask 
And visions of the Truth; 
Within this cup doth bask, 
I swear, Immortal Youth. 

Each day is but a place 
Where we may sleep and dine, 
A bright and happy space 
Wherein to sip our wine. 
A few halts more and lo! 
The desert everywhere; 
And none returns to show 
He sleeps not soundly there. 

Behold the rose of dawn, 
O Fountain of my bliss! 
The purple night is gone 
To other lands than this. 
Awake thy lute with mirth 
While life within us burns, 
For once 'tis quenched to earth 
Our day no more returns. 



e\m$ 



d^Vit/it* ^ ea > m tn * s crum bling tower 
^J ma * (Which is myself) do I, 

fjvC' Serene, await the hour 

Wherein at last I die. 
Thus am I free from fear, 
From sorrow, hope, desire; 
So rise above the sphere 
Of earth, air, water, fire. 

46 Unfaith from faith, untruth 
From truth, belief from doubt — 
A breath divides, forsooth, 
The all we war about. 
Why wrangle for an hour 
Or waste a single breath, 
Since breath's the only power 
That keeps sweet life from death? 

47 O most entrancing night! 
Whereof the Moon is queen, 
What kingdom of delight 
Like this was ever seen? 
How nightingales do sing 
And fragrant zephyrs stir; 
Come forth, my soul, and bring 
Sweet, holy thoughts or her! 

48 Now every blossom sips 
The dew that twilight brings; 
Why not unto my lips 
The dew of sweeter springs? 
Beloved, go not yet; 
The hour is not at hand 
When sleep bids us forget 
The dreams of this fair land. 



Thou who knowest all (ftttt/it* 

The heart's inmost desires, 

Rekindle ere I fall (R^ 

My temple's altar fires; tfitto/t 

Give me the strength to throw -5 

The dross of life from me, 

And let me plainly know 

The paths that lead to Thee. 

Upon the crumbled wall 
Of once a city great, 

1 heard a raven call 
Unto a skull of state: 

O king! where art thou now, 
And where thy glory flown? 
What crown upon thy brow? 
What trumpets for thee blown? 

Oh, like unto the wind 
That o'er the desert blows, 
The days leave me behind 
In Memnon-like repose. 
No more I vex my soul 
With unsubstantial things, 
The moment gone, the dole 
That any other brings. 

The pearl of greatest price 
Is mined where none may know; 
And with a strange device 
The perfect gem doth glow. 
Thy riddle, Love, is such 
The sphinx is left behind, 
Since those who haunt thee much 
Are blindest of the blind. 



0Utt<J 



(rttttAtf This wisdom I consign 
fV% To you as nothing lacking: 

(JvC/ No man doth put new wine 

In pigskins old and cracking. 
Not being young, I drink 
A wine as old as I am. 
So laugh at youth, to think 
How it unseated Priam. 

54 Inform me, O my Soul, 
Why this poor house of clay 
Was reared to be thy goal 
For one such fleeting day? 
What rest may here be found? 
What happiness is here? 
Depart, and let this ground 
Return unto its sphere. 

55 This is our day of pleasure, 
Come, push the cup aside, 
And from a larger measure 
Pour down the ruby tide. 
If working days we buy us 
But cups of common girth, 
Let double draughts supply us 
On days of double mirth. 

56 Few friends give me — or one; 
Some David of the heart 
To whom all pleasures run, 
All sorrows are a part — 
A sweet and genial soul 
In whom repose to find, 
An ever lofty goal 
And solace to the mind. 



57 Since life such sorrow yields (fttttAt* 
And joy is on the wing, wJFlW 
Away to pleasant fields QhW' 
For strength, while yet 'tis spring; gun* 
Say to the grasses green: OUIUJ 

Brothers! give me rest 
Ere your sweet spikes be seen 
Close set above my breast. 

58 Proteus dwells within 
The essence of the Grape, 
And now resembles Sin 
And now a peri's shape. 
Think not that he is dead 
Because he slumbers here; 
He simply schemes instead 
How he shall reappear. 

59 I have no time for hate; 
If men will be unjust, 

1 should dishonor Fate 
To strike them to the dust. 
Enough it is for me 

To let the gods condemn; 
My virtues — they must be 
My triumphs over them. 

So Oh, come, let us disdain 
The round of dismal cares, 
And our sad hearts sustain 
Through light and happy airs. 
Where Merriment doth pour 
His flagons to the brim — 
There let our spirits soar 
And drain the cup with him. 
d 






ArSy* AY Puppets are we, it seems, 

Amusing some great Power 
C/ Who in the play of Dreams 

Requires us for an hour. 
We are what things we are; 
We act the part He gave, 
And from this whirling star 
The exit is the grave. 

62 Mohammedan and Jew, 
And Christian and the rest, 
The same mirage pursue 
In hoping to be blest; 
Yet in the mind of him 
Whose thought is ever free, 
Is doubt that bodies dim 
Attain much brilliancy. 

63 I cannot tell thee, Dear, 
The meaning of this Dream, 
I only know that here 
We drift upon a stream 
That flows we know not where, 
We have no clue from whence? 
I know that thou art fair 
And Love shall lead us hence. 

64 That which we cannot know 
Why waste the time to find? 
So long as roses blow, 
Why be to them so blind? 
Enjoy the earth while here 
And let the Future rest, 
Nor seek another sphere 
When this way be the best. 



Behold the God of Wine dDwt&t 

With flagon and with cup! „ 

Our souls are at his shrine, \J*£' 

The incense wreathing up. tfilttrt" 

What fragrance and what glow! -J 

What rubies given us! 
Such wealth makes care and woe 
And want ridiculous. 

Far as the morning flees 
Has been my pathway, too, 
And yet in realms and seas 
I found me nothing new. 
Man is the same, world o'er, 
And nature, too, the same 
As here upon this shore — 
A shadow and a name. 

Once in a dream a sage 
Did come to me and say: 
O Friend! why blot the page 
By sleeping while 'tis day? 
The dead alone may keep 
Their couch without regret; 
The Rose of Joy, in sleep, 
Has never blossomed yet. 

Seek ever what is fair, 
Drink ever what is sweet, 
And tread the dust of care 
Beneath your merry feet. 
Why sue for pardon here 
For quaffing joy so brief? 
The gods in their own sphere 
Love Laughter more than Grief. 



0Utt0 



&}\\IClY ^ ^ e to us were V^ n 
„ And death an open book, 

(JvC/ We might not strive to gain 

The heights for which we look, 

But, leaving all to God, 

By Him be counted nought, 

Or what the barren sod 

Of weedy rubbish wrought. 

70 Though heaven and earth should fall, 
And stars show not their faces, 
My soul would still invade 
Some still undreamed of spaces. 
Somewhere a light would shine 
To which I should be fleeing, 
To find that there my dream 
Oh, long had lost its being. 

71 Farewell to Ramazan! 
The hour of mirth is come; 
Roll up old Alkoran 
And be no longer dumb. 
Let maids bring forth the wine 
And sing and dance and play; 
The very grass shall shine 
With ruby dew to-day! 

72 Although I have not strung 
The pearls of His decrees, 
Still sails my ship among 
The islands of His seas. 
What wrath can we assail? 
Of mercy why despair? 
I have not worshipped Baal 
Nor harried Thee with prayer. 



0un<j 



Oh, once this jar of rose dtVitAt* 

Was beautiful with life, m 

A lovely maid — who knows? (tyC/ 

Perchance a bride and wife. 
That handle was her arm 
About some neck that clung 
With true affection warm, 
When this old world was young. 

Beat not at every gate 
For refuge from thy grief, 
But patient be and wait, 
Since life at best is brief. 
What Destiny decrees 
Shall be thy lot and mine — 
No more, no less, we seize 
Of shadow or of shine. 

Twilights and dawns and noons 
Ere we were born did bloom, 
And many, many moons 
Invest the fragrant gloom. 
Be careful, therefore, where 
Your idle footsteps tread; 
The very dust is fair 
With beauty that is dead. 

This day may be the last 
That Life shall dwell with thee, 
Since he doth journey fast 
In his far home to be. 
Waste not the time in sleep 
The while he is thy guest; 
Thy house in order keep 
And soothe him with the best. 



e\m$ 



ft\\H/%Y ^he f uture ? Tis not mine; 

^ The past? A dream's device. 

^JvC/ To-morrow's sun may shine 

Upon thy brow of ice. 
The present moment, then, 
Is leased unto our needs, 
Wherein we fare with men 
And do our little deeds. 

78 Kaabas and temples rise, 
And countless gods are sought, 
And under many skies 
Are many wonders wrought; 
And yet all lovely things, 
Wherever shines the sun, 
Are the uplifting wings 
Whereby we soar to One. 

79 Let not thy cheek grow wan 
With thoughts of future woe; 
Serenely journey on, 
Nor fear the common foe. 
Thy cup of earthly bliss, 
As Heaven intended, drain; 
The ghosts of joys we miss 
Are hollow-eyed as Cain. 

80 The hearth is cleanly swept, 
Our souls, my Dear, at peace; 
And every clause is kept 
Of Love's immortal lease; 
Forgotten every woe 
The world was wont to bring; 
Forgiven every foe 
And healed his every sting. 



8 1 Of what avail is prayer (fttttAt* 
If that the heart be proud? ft* 
Vain words are but as air vl^£' 
Or pockets in a shroud. KUftfr 
Sincerity that springs -J 
From souls devoid of guile, 

Is mightier than kings 

To win fair Heaven's smile. 

82 Put not on the raiment 
The hypocrite doth wear, 
Nor, once outside the tent, 
Make loud and vacant prayer. 
Such faults the gods despise, 
And Heaven from such is free; 
Vast hell itself denies 

It holds hypocrisy. 

$3 Circles of nothingness 
Are set to our account, 
The fraction growing less 
The higher we do mount. 
Man's knowledge is but nought, 
His wisdom vain as dreams, 
The subsidies of thought 
But evanescent gleams. 

$4 Unsatisfied desire 

And hopes no time may fill, 
Burn in me like to fire 
And waste away my will. 
What ashes men become 
To please the sphinx in Thee, 
Beneath what Heavens dumb, 
Demanding love from me! 



0Utt<$ 



(rttttAtf Since earth can only give 
KJU A few bright days to thee, 

QKe? O Poet, freely live 

And sip the sweets that be. 
The end is nothingness, 
And short this mundane way; 
Act promptly and possess, 
And while you live be gay. 

86 Oh, long ago the Book 
Of Heaven was writ and sealed, 
And none therein may look 
And nothing be revealed; 
With dreams and emptiness 
We fill the jar of day, 
The while we strangely guess 
What boots the part we play. 

87 In some most humble cot 
I rather dwell with thee 
Than where I saw thee not 
An envied king to be. 
This, then, shall be my creed, 
Come whatsoever may: 
Love only shall me lead 
And thou light up the way. 

88 The riddle of the Sphinx 
Is knowledge hid in thee, 
And yet what mortal drinks 
The draught he cannot see? 
If thought might dig so deep 
As lie its crystal springs, 
The riddle would not keep — 
Nor Hope fold up her wings. 



Resign thyself to Fate, &}tt%/lt 

No other ruse avails; II 

He who learns not to wait, (JvC/ 

In every project fails. KUYkfr 

And if in waiting long 3 

Death find thee ere Success, 
Remember, to be strong 
Is most of happiness. 

Who loves you, he is kin; 
If your own kith betray, 
Let them be strangers in 
This drama of a day. 
If poison cures you, drink; 
If antidotes work ill, 
Reject them, and so think 
That thinking shall not kill. 

Lo! spring is come, and now 
From bondage of the cold 
Is led each happy bough — 
As Moses led of old. 
What lands of promise loom 
In all these blossoms white, 
Where, later, there shall bloom 
What fruitage of the light! 

Long have I been of wine 
A singing devotee, 
Yet made it thrall supine 
To sweet Philosophy. 
And therefore is the Grape 
The subject of my will; 
I snare me and escape, 
And am the master still. 



e\m$ 



fi}Yft.At ^> grieve no more, nor strive, 
To lose or gain thee gold; 

(JvC/ The bee unto his hive 

Lugs more than he can hold. 
Why gather so much wealth 
That others may be drones, 
To laugh at thee in stealth 
And fatten on thy groans? 

94 Since it is ever plain 
From this clay house we flee, 
The joys we may not gain 
Why seek so eagerly P 
The Soul is Lord Divine? 
And it alone will grieve 
If dross I claim as mine 
And life's good treasure leave. 

95 Whose eyes but melt in rains 
When you are absent, Dear? 
Whose soul sits not in chains 
Until you reappear? 
Whose heart that does not bleed 
As though it exiled were? 
And yet you pay no heed 
To any worshipper. 

96 If they who never sin 
But cast at us the stone, 
We shall not gather in 
Enough of scars to own. 
Let hypocrites beware 
Lest Virtue them indite; 
Sometimes the noonday fair, 
Inside, are blackest night. 



0Utt$ 



All joy is incomplete (^ttt/lt* 

That is alone employed, 

But, oh, how more than sweet \J*t' 

When sharefully enjoyed. 

The whole of life is not 

In simply drawing breath, 

But being well forgot 

When we lie cold in death. 

The bridge from birth to death 
Is but a hair's breadth wide, 
And rocks with every breath 
Above a darksome tide. 
The soul is but a Dream 
That ever urges "On"; 
Uprises that black stream, 
And lo ! the world is gone. 

Pale Death in this world's gear 
Makes all men poor and mean, 
Therefore in thy career 
Build up the soul's demesne; 
From passion free and dross 
Enrich thy heart and mind, 
So, dying, leave not loss 
But gain of thee behind. 

I cannot think that He 
Who made this cup will break, 
Unless, perchance, there be 
A better for my sake. 
These lovely faces fade ? 
Such is the Great Design; 
In bowing to the Shade 
I worship the Divine. 



e\m$ 



fttttdtf Through drunkenness of earth 
f y^ This dread of death doth come; 

\JvC' A tree of no true worth 

Alone bears fruit so dumb. 
But that immortal Tree 
Which doth the soul sustain 
Still bursts to bloom for thee, 
And its sweet fruit doth rain. 

1 02 The tulip her bright cup — 
Refound in this new year — 
To the glad sun holds up 
A great symbol of good cheer. 
Therefore with Beauty dwell 
And quaff the wine of spring, 
Brooks laugh, birds sing, buds swell 
And Joy is on the wing. 

103 One drop of wine is more 
Than many kingdoms dead, 
The jar from which we pour 
Than hearts encased in lead. 
A thousand coins of gold 
Quench not the fires of thirst; 
Bring me a vintage old 
And I will crown it first. 

104 Grieve not when I am dead, 
But, gathered 'round my tomb, 
Rejoice with me instead, 
And scatter fragment bloom. 
Alive, I wake no tear; 
In death be it the same; 
I still would bring you cheer 
When I am but a name. 



mn$ 



105 No shield against the thrust (£)ttt&? 
Of Fate's sharp spear is found; „ 
Glory and gold, and lust \J£^ 
Of fame fall to the ground. 
Greatness? Only the good 
Are great, since they, 
Through honest hardihood, 
Last longest in the fray. 

106 I set my heart to find 
The Land of Happiness, 
And many realms declined 
As lacking might to bless. 
Care guarded every gate 
And Want within was pale; 
The more I fled from Fate 
The more I seemed to fail. 

107 Forgive me, O my Soul, 
If at thy feet I lay 
The trophies of the goal 
Of this proud bit of clay. 
That they are vain I fear, 
And better unbestowed, 
Yet thou didst journey here 
And made me thy abode. 

108 Who keeps his heart content, 
Ah, he is the Lord of Peace, 
To whom all joys are sent, 
Whose kingdom shall not cease. 
Tranquility of mind, 
Delicious sleeps he knows, 
Twin rubies man may find 
Not where the Miser goes. 






To drink wine, to be gay — 
This is my scheme of life, 
£/ Besides no heed to pay 

To creeds that bring but strife. 
I said unto the Bride: 
"What is thy portion, Sweet?" 
She said: "When at thy side 
Thy happy look I meet." 

no These millions of the light! 
How soon to sleep in death, 
Where no stars shine, in night 
Where stirs no balmy breath, 
In earth serene and dumb, 
With silence old as time. 
Bid Pleasure, therefore, come 
And weave her laughing rhyme. 

in Unrest and sorrow haunt 

My heart both night and day 
To think that pale and gaunt 
A Ghost pursues my way. 
I may not bar his path, 
He journeys where I go; 
In thrall my life he hath 
And fills my cup with woe. 

112 When He this seed did sow 

He knew what fruit 'twould bear; 
He chose the soil to grow 
And set His limits there. 
Ehe harvest He shall reap 
Is that which He desires; 
Good grain His bins may heap 
Or rubbish feed His fires. 



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113 What time I leaned to prayer (ftfttA? 
And pangs of fasting knew, ^ 
Methought 'twas mine to share (JvC/ 
Of heaven: I dreamed of you. 
Oh, penetential tears, 
Oh, high resolves for good, 
How heaven disappears 
In things misunderstood! 

114 Fair faces inspire me 
Like the Maid of the Vine; 
Let Beauty but fire me 
And the song is divine. 
What beacons unlighted 
But await the bright spark, 
To lead the benighted 
From the sorrow of dark! 

1 1 5 As men who cannot know 
The why that they are here, 
The Potter's ware, arow, 
I heard conversing clear: 
Where is the Potter? Where 
The buyer? Where is he 
Who sells? And why this air 
Of chance and mystery? 

116 What worthiness is mine 
The Master Potter knows; 
He fashioned me, in fine, 
And why doth not disclose. 
Betimes, He shall me break; 
Betimes, His hand remould — 
So long as dawns shall wake 
And earth her orbit hold. 



(fttttAt ^ a ^ Youth to tipsy Age: 
¥> "Old man dost thou not fear 

(JvC/ To stain thy final page, 

MLYktt ^ nc * *° ' fc ^ e en< ^ so near ?" 

t>WII SJ Said Age: "This book of mine 

In merriment was writ, 

And not with tears, but wine, 

I'll drench the end of it." 

1 1 8 A thousand wines there be, 
And many my muse sings: 
I cannot judge for thee 
Nor give thy soul its wings. 
Choose for thyself, and soar 
Or hobble on the ground; 
The gods presume no more 
Than point to the Profound. 

119 Yea, passion is the voice 
Of our brute natures still; 
We fox-like are from choice — 
A wolf that seeks his fill — 
The tiger without heart 

And prowling for his prey — 
An ass that plays his part — 
A dog that loves to bay. 

120 Who sent thee, Sweet, to me, 
Oh, radiant as the dawn? 
What Thought awakened thee 
That hither thou wast drawn? 
Alas! how on the wind 

Our roses bright depart! 
What thorns are left behind 
To pierce and pain the heart! 



121 The lamp of love which Heaven $}fH/ir 
Hath set in every heart 

Is as a star that's given (Jv£' 

To play its brilliant part. tftltUt 

What creed can dim its light -J 

Or add unto its ray? 
It is the soul of night 
And in itself is day. 

122 More dear than in the strife 
Are arrows, bow and spear — 
More dear to me than life, 
An hundred times more dear, 
Art thou, Beloved One, 

All loveliness and light — 
My soul, my saint, my sun, 
My everything that's bright! 

123 How fair the fringes green 
Along this laughing stream, 
A picture that is seen 
More often in a dream. 

Oh, do not crush this bloom, 
In God's own gardens made, 
Sent hither that the gloom 
A little season fade. 

124 Care and cark, cark and care, 
Such — such is man's refrain. 
Laughter? Dead. Tears? To spare. 
The king? The king is Pain. 

On shoal and reef and bar, 
The only pilot blind, 
Sans compass, chart and star, 
What harbor shall we find? 
f 



£mair 

0Urt<$ 



When at Death's feet I fall 
And lie unstripped of gear, 
£' Old Earth reclaiming all 

She loaned my spirit here, 
I pray thee take my clay 
And shape for wine a cup; 
The Soul that is away 
May come again to sup. 

116 Make lawful one of all 
The wishes we express — 
To tread the golden ball 
Of Love, and love possess, 
Since there, perchance, we may 
The royal jewel find 
In whose impartial ray 
The blind no more are blind. 

127 Since this short dream must fade, 
Let me be happy now. 
For what was pleasure made? 
To be enjoyed, I vow. 
This Eden is forbid? 
Then let me turn aside 
And those dear regions thrid 
Where Freedom doth abide. 

128 They who deserve the least 
Too often gain the prize, 
While Beauty weds the Beast 
And Virtue, throttled, dies. 
Injustice rules; the throne 
Is founded deep on greed; 
True kings are serfs unknown 
With but the boon to bleed. 



129 Ho! a cup of good wine, (T^tttAt* 
Not a kingdom, give me. TL 

To the King of the Vine (JU? 

My allegiance shall be. KUYlfr 

Just a smile from his lips -J 

Is both honor and might, 
And the moment that slips 
Is a jewel of light. 

130 'Tis not for riot's sake, 
Nor that the good I shun, 
That of the cup I make 
A friend, beloved one; 
Oh, no; but that in wine 

I from myself may flee, 
And for an hour divine 
Dream thou art kind to me. 

131 They say there is a hell. 
Forsooth, how can there be? 
Romancers, please to tell 
Consistent tales to me. 
Why, if there were such place 
For what was heaven planned? 
To be a vacant space 

As this my hollow hand. 

132 Appoint no time for prayer 
Nor set a day aside; 

Buds bloom, leaves fall, 'tis fair, 
'Tis foul, and moves the tide 
And runs the wind, all days. 
Think not upon the art, 
But what is Good go praise 
With an unceasing heart. 



bmav 



What need of Paradise 
If mercy were not Thine? 
1/ For all do sin and rise 

But through Thy grace divine. 
What need of hell is there 
If Thou hast mercy, Lord? 
Thou art impartial, fair, 
The Soul of Sweet Accord. 

134 Put wisdom by to-day 
And take the cup in hand, 
Nor build thee dreams alway 
That none can understand. 
Go, sell thy silken gear 
And buy thee cups of mirth, 
The soul cares not to hear 
Thou art a lord of earth. 

135 This month the Prophet's is. 
Perchance, 'tis well 'tis so; 
Therefore I'll forfeit bliss — 
Until my roses blow. 
'Tis well, perhaps, sometimes 
Sweet Pleasure's kiss to spurn, 
That we with new-made rhymes 
May herald her return. 

136 To the sound of the flute 
And the harp's golden voice, 
Drink the blood of the fruit 
From the vine of thy choice. 
Pour a drop on the ground 
That it never be vexed, 
While the heart gives a bound 
As it sighs for the next. 



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137 My merits one by one, d^tftA? 
My faults by tens, I count; „ 

Yet He doth set His sun, \J>£' 

His rains to my account. 

Feed not the fires of hate 

With passion of the sod, 

Nor mount unto His gate 

With less than love for God. 

138 I seek Thy love alone, 
Subscribing to no creed, 
The countless sects unknown — 
To me are but as weeds. 
The pomp and sounding phrase 
Seem but impeding mire 
Along the thorny ways 
That lead to my desire. 

139 When the full cup doth glimmer 
With the blood-tingling wine, 
Lo! the life seems to shimmer 
Of some spirit divine. 
Oh, the churlish ones banish 
From a comrade so bright, 
That the shades of woe vanish 
And Hope come with the light. 

140 This old caravanserai, 
This world of shade and light, 
Is but the ruin gray 
Of many Jamshids* might, 
A tomb where pillowed deep 
An hundred Bahrams lie, 
Where yet unto their sleep 
Ten thousand yet shall fly. 



$}mav 



If roses fade and fall, 
Do not the thorns remain? 
C/ The year cannot recall 

The sad delights of pain. 
Though priest and temple go, 
The Lord will love his own; 
They shall His mercy know 
As they have ever known. 

142 That I may them enjoy, 
The wine and dancers bring, 
And may no clouds annoy 
The morning of my spring. 
O maidens fair, and song, 
And flagons of good wine! 
The time may not be long 
But it shall be divine. 

143 The shuttle of the skies 
That weaves the worlds untold 
Forgets me as it flies 
And strips me to the cold, 
While my good weaver-friend 
Doth make his shuttle speed 
My sorry lot to mend 
Against the winter's need. 

1 44 Vex not thy heart with care 
Nor let the mind grow sad; 
They only find Despair 
Who will not to be glad. 
Still there are lutes to hear, 
Still there is wine for thee; 
Go, listen, drink, nor fear 
To seek Felicity. 



145 Ri^es? A bubble vain (f)tttA¥ 
The winds may blow aside, „ 

A nothing that we gain yK^' 

Through that great nothing, P ri de*KuYk{r 
The Torch of Joy am I, -J 

Or Jamshid's crystal cup; 
Or quenched or broken, why 
Should I be lifted up? 

146 Arise and greet the Dawn! 
Drink, heart, and happy be, 
For soon thou shalt be gone 
That now her face may see. 
And she all mornings, heart, 
Shall blush thy tomb above — 
When thou hast played thy part 
And lived thy little love. 

147 If Heaven bread denies 
Am I not prompt for war? 
Where Honor's banner flies 
There my good forces are. 
Eternal shame were mine 
Did I but think to fail, 
And in Thy sight divine 
Discard my spear and mail. 

148 What matters it if life 
Or sweet or bitter be? 
Time flies so fast, the strife 
Not long can worry thee. 
Whether at Babylon 

Or Naishapur we die, 
The moon, still rolling on, 
Shall silver either sky. 



0Utt<$ 



(rttttAt? To-day while Fortune's rose 
^ > Is scenting every gale, 

(JvC/ Why on a sea of woes 

Keep tightly furled the sail? 

Now, while the wind is right, 

Set all thy canvas free; 

Away, into the light 

Of Opportunity! 

1 50 The month of Ramazan 
Is dawning in the east; 
The days of mirth are gone 
And every happy feast. 
The wine, upmuffled, waits; 
Bright eyes but haunt in vain. 
Farewell to love ; the gates 
Of Pleasure shut amain. 

151 The palace where of old 
Great Bahrain's feasts were spread 
Is but a ruin cold 
Where lordly lions tread. 
Yea, he who snared his game, 
By Death was snared in turn, 
And all that's left — a name, 
Half-vanished, on an urn. 

152 Into this whirl of life 
Too late we came, since we 
Are baffled in the strife; 
Hence this satiety. 
If hope no fruit may yield 
What are its blossoms worth? 
Better a fallow field 
Than thus to cumber earth. 



0Utt<J 



153 While of this earth let me (ftftlAt* 
No future demon fear; JvJ 
Bring forth Felicity (KC/ 
And I will wed her here. 
If she in Aftermath 
Be kept from me apart, 
I'll wander in her path 
And somewhat ease the smart. 

1 54 Yea, that these cheeks may glow 
And that these eyes may shine, 
Companions, let me know 
The comradeship of wine. 
With wine, wine, I charge you, 
Well drench me when I die 
And from the vine-roots hew 
The palace where I lie. 

155 A draught of wine is more 
Than Jamshid's golden state, 
Its perfume's happy store 
Than Hatim's gifts more great. 
The sigh that wine may bring 
Is sweeter than the mirth 
Of kings; oh, therefore cling 
To that of magic worth. 

156 Clouds gather in the skies, 
Down comes the merry rain ; 
The dry earth drinks; likewise 
Let me the goblet drain. 
Green grow the grass and flowers 
On hillside, plain and tomb; 
Ah, who will love the showers 
That coax our dust to bloom ? 

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(rtttlAt* ^ et not tne wor ^ deceive, 
T*£ Since its pursuits are vain, 

\J\t/ Nor with the fawner leave 

Thy treasury of grain. 
Improve thy time in strife 
Of lofty deeds and aims, 
Upholding Truth with life — 
The rest is Death's and Fame's. 

158 The love I offer, Dear, 
Is ready for the test; 
What comes I shall not fear, 
So thou dost think it best. 
Whatever pain or grief 
Thou givest me to bear, 
This life were all too brief — 
Or thou too-wondrous fair. 

159 Oh, heart, my heart, this gear, 
This pomp, is but a dream; 
Why, striving, journey here 
Against the rushing stream? 
Let Fate decide thy path — 
She will. What grief, what gold, 
What joy for thee she hath, 
E'en she cannot withhold. 

160 What tidings from beyond? 
Has one returned to tell? 
Oh, hope of hopes, too fond 
Are we on dreams to dwell. 
Grieve not; the way is long, 
An endless journey, Sweet, 
Yet in the Path of Song 
The circle grows complete. 



0Utt<J 



1 6 1 Each day that comes and goes ^3ttt&¥ 
From life requires a fee 
Until at last doth close 
The world's account with thee. 
Then gayly pay thy debt 
As thou wert lord of more; 
Time scorns, nor has regret. 
For misers and their store. 

162 Monarchs like trees do fall, 
And we like spears of grass; 
Nought heeds the lonesome call 
Of those who bloom and pass. 
Then why, when suns do shine, 
Should we refuse the light? 
In water as in wine 
Is sown the seed of night. 

1 63 One with another day — 
Forsooth, there's none in which 
My heart forgets to say: 
In life am I not rich? 
All days to me are one 
With threads of brightness wove, 
And all are of the sun 
In this sweet woof of love. 

164 This flesh is chaff, yon space 
Of seven heavens wrought, 
Is nothing more, the grace 
Of this short life is nought. 
Grasp while you may Delight, 
An unsubstantial thing, 
And yet a merry wight — 
A Nothing on the wing. 



©mar 
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Life is a caravan 
That passes like a dream, 
A faint mirage, O man, 
The shimmer of a beam. 
Grieve not the while you last, 
Nor unborn morrows fear, 
For soon the hour is past 
Wherein you tarried here. 

1 66 Old Age did I behold 

Forth stagger through the door; 

His prayer-mat loosely rolled 

He on his shoulder bore, 

A flagon in his hand. 

Quoth I: "How hast thou sinned! 1 

"Drink wine, and understand," 

Said he, "that earth is wind." 

167 A nightingale divine 
Into my garden flew, 
And saw my cup of wine 
And saw my roses, too. 
Then sang she in my ear: 
"Enjoy the sweets that be, 
For soon the busy year 
Will scatter thine and thee." 

168 He who the Universe 

And its foundations wrought, 

Beset me with a curse 

And stung me with a thought. 

What ruby lips to earth, 

What hearts to dust He dooms ! 

Yea, we are but the girth 

Of all down-trodden blooms. 



169 Yea, like unto a tent d^tttAf 
Is this frail house of clay ^ 
Wherein the Soul is pent (JvC/ 
And sultan for a day. tiUYtCT 
The monarch journeys forth, -J 
When lo! the slave of Doom 

Strikes tent, and its proud worth 
Is raised again — for whom? 

170 Poured from the hand of Heaven 
Love exalteth every heart, 

And like a precious leaven 
Doth sweeten every smart. 
Love is a shield, a spear — 
Defense, and weapon too — 
Wherewith to stay old Fear 
Or win a kingdom new. 

171 When the wind and the sun 
Have expanded the rose, 
And the violet won 

From her dusky repose, 
Lo! the vine burgeons too, 
And the grape is a bud 
That is storing a dew 
That shall quicken our blood. 

172 The good know not how sweet 
God's mercy is to men, 

But they with bleeding feet 
Who ask and ask again. 
Thou sayest, "Hell is mine;" 
Forsooth thy light is dim; 
This estimate of thine 
Precludes thy love for Him. 



rf^ni/il» O Heart, bewildered guest 

^/mui of this frail house of clay> 

(JvC/ Be not with grief oppressed; 

tfUtl A" ^ ne wor ^ * s thine to-day. 

tt wriCJ j oy ^ M i rtn and s ong i nv i t e 

Thy laughing friends to be, 
For soon descends the night 
That stills thy house and thee. 

174 How sweet is Iram's lute 
When Genius lightly plays> 
And Joy, no longer mute, 
Awakes a song of praise. 
Much of the world I know 
And most of it is dross, 

But when bright numbers flow 
Who thinks upon his loss ! 

175 Old Time, whose gifts like rain 
Upon the unjust fall, 

As on the just, gives pain 
And joy to one and all. 
This garden of mankind 
Shows me a blighted rose, 
A bud the angry wind 
Can beat but not unclose. 

1 76 Khayyam, who sewed the tents 
Of learning for his friends, 
Perforce is hurried hence 
When his thread breaks or ends. 
The world, impatient, cold, 
Thrusts him beyond its door, 
As for a song is sold 

The slave that serves no more. 



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177 With the bright and the fair (f)tttA? 
In the gardens of spring, /Y ^ 

Let us bury Despair V.KC/ 

With the pomp of a king. 

Let us laugh by his tomb, 

Let us drink, let us sing, 

Let us hide him with bloom 

In the gardens of spring! 

178 Sweet, oh, sweet is the wine 
In a cup that is fair, 
With a music divine 
Wafted over it there. 
Let the wise if they will 
Go enlist in the strife, 
But, oh, bring to me still 
Just the roses of life! 

179 Let beauty be thy aim 
And sweet Simplicity, 
And in their golden fame 
Thy steadfast beacon see. 
Fear not, if thou art wise, 
A darker realm than this; 
No need of paradise, 
Here is enough of bliss. 

180 This tenement of clay 
The Soul soon wearies of 
And from it turns away 
To haunts it more doth love. 
But while these walls of life 
The stranger guest contain, 
Let them with song be rife 
Lest he not long remain. 



A\ttt/it* Unto the mosque my feet 

ZL By Duty's call are led, 

(TvC/ But not alone is sweet 

ftUft£r What her stern lips have said, 

iJ Since yet a dearer voice 

Doth echo in my heart 
And bids my soul rejoice 
Long after I depart. 

182 Wine is the earth's red blood, 
And since the earth us kills, 
Let us pour down a flood 
From him who our blood spills. 
Oh, limpid, sweet and pure, 
Tinted and tinct with rose, 
There is no better cure 

Than wine for this world's woes. 

1 83 At dawning, from the inn 
There came a voice, "Arise, 
And fill each cannikin 
With liquid paradise. 

Ye tavern-haunters, up 

Before old Fate doth come 

To fill your being's cup 

With that which strikes you dumb." 

1 84 To the radiant pearls 

That enchant us and thrill — 
To the beautiful girls 
That enslave us at will, 
Drink the blood of the grape, 
Sing a song of good cheer, 
Lest the tyrants escape 
And our chains disappear! 



0Utt<J 



185 When the roses appear, dDYIitit 
Let the flute's mellow note 

And the harp's golden cheer \J*£' 

Through the gay gardens float, 
While a rose-colored wine 
From the flagons is poured — 
That the season divine 
Be divinely adored. 

186 When the splendor is fled 
From the heart of the rose, 
When the fragrance is dead 
Where violets repose, 
Then the heart of my King 
My repentance will scorn, 
And my soul turn her wing 
From the ramparts of Morn. 

1 87 My soul and I, forsooth, 
As a compasses seem, 
One point affixed to truth, 
One circling in a dream. 
Yet soon shall come the hour 
When we move side by side, 
When both shall know the Power 
That bade them once divide. 

188 Not knowing whence we came, 
Not knowing where we go, 
Not knowing why the flame 
Within us rages so, 
What wonder that our fate 
Seems something kin to dust? 
No trumpet speaks, no gate 
Appears, and all things rust, 
h 



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fi\ft%*Y My heart is filled with sin. 

JP* O Lord, where is Thy light? 

(tv£/ So blind am I that in 

This world I gather night. 
Thou madest me to be; 
Thou owest me a debt, 
Which if Thou pay est me 
I may be happy yet. 

190 Of death I have no fear 
Since death is but a truth 
And truth is but a sphere 
Of an immortal youth. 
My fear alone shall be 
That I so mix with dross 
My soul, when it goes free, 
Be not the sign of loss. 

191 The leafy crown of fame, 
The unsought and the sought, 
The kingship and the game 
Of empire — these are nought 
To one sweet song I hear 
By one sweet maiden sung — 
My flute-girl's voice so clear 
My garden blooms among. 

192 When from this earth the tree 
That now is I is torn, 
Let them from mould of me 
Make cups, nor grow forlorn, 
But fill each one with wine 
And drain and fill again; 
So may this dust of mine 
Give pleasure unto men. 



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1 93 Our sin concerns not Thee, (J3ttt&t 
Thou fashioned it, forsooth, „ 
That men might clearly see v!>^ 
How good, how bright is truth. 
If from the higher path 
And from the Light we stray, 
The Whirlwind and the Wrath 
Are but the price we pay. 

194 Let us forget today, 
Nor of tomorrow think; 
This hour — the while we may — 
Let us of pleasure drink. 
Tomorrow we shall sleep 
The dumb and dusty peers 
Of all the dead who keep 
The world's upswallowed years. 

195 What glory, Earth, is gained 
By our sojourning here? 
The greatest that have reigned 
In darkness disappear. 
Say, what am I to Thee? 
Mine ears have never heard. 
Is immortality 
A fact, or just a word? 

196 Eternal Wisdom, Thou 
Who numbereth every hair, 
And settest on man's brow 
Thy signet proud and fair, 
How may we think to move 
Through life, deceiving Thee, 
Returning for Thy love 
A rank hypocrisy? 



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dT)\Yl&t Good Ramazan is gone, 
rv% The saint of all the year. 

[Jf\C/ Behold, the rosy dawn 

Of Merriment is here! 
On Wisdom's cheek divine 
The flagon breeds a mole, 
Yet there are wings in wine 
For every weary soul. 

198 The wisdom hid in wine, 
The knowledge and the might, 
Like jewels in a mine 
Not in the rough are bright, 
But when digged up and wrought 
And held in some strong ray 
They sparkle, thought on thought, 
And dazzle day with day. 

199 There is mirth in the grape 
And happiness astir 
When its juices escape 
For the gay vintager. 
To Sorrow fling the gage; 
When eyes like a flower 
Lend their charm to the page 
Why look for the shower? 

aoo What then is merit, pray, . 
If at the final hour 
The knave turns white as day 
Through some absolving power? 
If justice is not here, 
I see no reason plain 
Why in some other sphere 
Injustice may not reign. 



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201 While you may, lift your voice (£)tttAt 
In the nightingale's choir, Tj 
With the wine of your choice \J>£' 
Fill the cup of desire. 
There's a song in the tide 
Of the grape as it flows, 
And a kiss for the bride 
That is sweet as the rose. 

202 I covet not, therefore 
Am I released from debt — 
From him who sighs for more, 
From Envy and Regret. 
Of one alone let me 
Be jealous as a king, 
So may my soul be free 
To give Him everything. 

203 I pray thee, Wheel of Heaven, 
Release me from thy spite, 
Since not to me is given 
To wander in thy light. 
Thy favors fall on fools 
The while the wise want food; 
Thou teachest in thy schools 
The dunces are the good. 

204 If wine in Paradise 
The faithful soul may drink, 
Why is it in His eyes 
So gross of it to think? 
An Arab, deep in wine, 
His faithful camel slew, 
Therefore the Seer divine 
The right to wine withdrew. 



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AVftA? Of past delights no more 
„ Than memory remains, 

\J\t$ Yet what a dreamful store 

Of ever-blooming grains ! 
The happy mind may still 
Its joy in others sow, 
As last year's grape doth fill 
Our cup with ruby glow. 

206 In this mad world of dreams 
Make haste to gather bloom, 
And like the laughing streams 
Forestall the day of doom. 
Oh, not through sorrow, Dear, 
The realm of Truth is found, 
But where the gay appear 
Is her immortal ground. 

207 My love its topmost flame 
Has reached, and can no more, 
As souls that love His name 
To His high heaven soar. 
Thy beauty gladdens me; 
Thy virtues are so bright 
I can but worship Thee 
As roses do the light. 

208 Let happiness increase 
In this old world of woe 
Until the song of Peace 
Its every heart shall know. 
Confusion, fire and death 
To all who Joy forbid, 
Since in his healing breath 
The spring of Truth is hid. 



0Utt£ 



209 Thou miser, mark me well, (fttttA? 
No good art thou on earth, zjl 
Immured in narrow cell vj££' 
And high arch-fiend of Mirth. 
Yea, worse than this thou art, 
A vampire to the race 
That suckest from the heart 
What thou canst not replace. 

210 When we are gone with Death, 
How long the world will move, 
And never any breath 
To whisper of our love. 
The ages ere we came 
Were not devoid of light, 
Nor those to come our fame 
Shall need to make them bright. 

211 How long wilt thou seek out 
The vanities of earth? 
How long vex thee about 
Things evil or of worth? 
Wert thou the fount of youth 
Or one of Heaven's springs 
Thou couldst not sweeten Truth 
Nor soil her spotless wings. 

an Within Life's book our name 
The hand of nature sets, 
Which having done, the same 
Hand blots, and soon forgets. 
Thou bearer of the cup, 
Bring ruby wine to me; 
Since earth must swallow up 
Let my earth happy be. 



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dr\\WftY Each day is poison-tinct, 
„ Since day by day we die; 

\JvC2 Therefore, let me be linked 

With Mirth as time goes by; 
Within my cup a draught 
That's antidote to woe, 
Which, when I have quaffed, 
Shall cheer the path I go. 

214 Behold the sects that think 
The world with them must kneel, 
Or into Darkness sink 
And Allah's anger feel. 
Vex not thy mind, O friend; 
The path of right is thine, 
Which, well pursued, doth end 
Not far from the Divine. 

215 Grief is a constant guest, 
But we must summer Joy 
And make within the breast 
A bright nook for the boy, 
Else he depart full soon; 
He loveth not the shades, 
But revels in the noon 
And wearies when it fades. 

216 Arise, and let the sun 
Into thy clouded heart, 
Before the day is done 
And night takes up her part. 
Oh, dream no more; awake, 
And cast thy fear aside, 
And this glad Morning take 
To be thy rosy bride. 



217 A bitter war I wage (TVtt/lt* 

With giant Sin, forsooth, 
Yet I unto his rage (j^' 

Am but a pigmy truth. KUYtCT 

I weaken in the fight; -J 

My heart grows sick in me 
To think that in Thy sight 
I am so churl to Thee. 

a 1 8 They who for foolish gain 
Have set the truth aside 
And worship but the vain 
And nurse their souls on pride, 
Makeup the noughts of time 
That hedge with hollow shame 
The sun of the Sublime 
And flaunt its golden fame. 

1 1 9 When the steeds of the stars 
Were first bridled on high, 
And the planets their cars 
Hurried first through the sky, 
From the Throne of the All 
Went the thought of our path; 
If a soul rise or fall — 
In His plan thus He hath. 

iio Oh, that I might withdraw 

From this vain world, and rest, 
Or, reading right the Law, 
Give peace unto my breast. 
Nor this nor that, it seems, 
Is given us to do, 
But strife, and hope, and dreams 
With glimpses of the true. 



(£e? 

0Utt<$ 



drSyHAt Woe's me for that which slips 
Away of golden worth; 
Woe's me! the sweetest lips 
Must kiss the sodden earth. 
Woe's me that they come not 
Who once have gone away. 
To tell if love's forgot 
Or hath a brighter day. 

222 Since once this earth was drowned. 
Oh, ages long ago, 
Come, send the flagon round 
And let the nectar flow; 
'Tis ours to silence Grief 
In this rose-colored tide, 
And find the olive leaf 
That this dark sea doth hide. 

223 Alas! our youth decays, 
The spring of youth goes by, 
The bird of April days 
Flecks not our winter sky, 
Nor comes again to sing 
On our forsaken shore, 
While earth renews her spring 
From an eternal store. 

224 Make level with the earth 
The tomb wherein I lie, 
That no rude shock to mirth 
May come when she goes by. 
So let me sleep, forgot, 
Except some song I sing, 
Like a forget-me-not, 
In her remembrance spring. 



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225 The Captain Ruby bring &}n%/\r 
And throne it in the light, no 
And our beloved king, \J+l' 
The prince of men, invite; 
And since all dwellers here 
So soon inhabit dust, 
Bring hither wine as clear 
As he is good and just. 

226 Oh, Thou whom all desire 
Yet whom no heart may find, 
Still keep alive the fire 
Of incense in the mind. 
That we are deaf to Thee, 
That we are blind, we feel, 
Yet wheresoe'er we be, 
Protect us, Lord, and heal. 

227 Why frown upon thy fate? 
Oh, rather with a smile 
Go meet her at the gate 
And laugh with her the while. 
Let every moment be 
A little dream of bliss, 
Which, as it flies from thee, 
Takes hence a loving kiss. 

228 O cyprus-slender maid 
And tinted like a flower, 
Ere all thy beauty fade, 
Enjoy thy little hour. 
Pluck the bright blossoms now, 
Ere they begin to fall, 
Or round about thy brow 
The wild winds whirl them all. 



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ft\+ft av Oh, proud and tyrant Wheel 

fV ^ That rollest through the sky, 

(JvC/ Unanswering our zeal 

And making men to die, 
Thou heedest not our pain, 
But where its seat is found 
With double weight amain 
Thou pressest on the wound. 

230 This great dome of the sky, 
And under which we move 
Like shadows till we die 
And lose the dreams we love, 
Is but a lantern small, 
Wherein the sun is light, 
Hung in some nook of All 
Shall also have its night. 

23 1 Shadows and phantasms 
Make up this world so strange 
And all its peaks and chasms 
Are but its fields of change. 
Lose not thyself in fear; 
Thou canst not miss the light, 
Nor time, nor tide uprear 
A hand against thy right. 

232 Sweet daughters of the vine 
Bring hither of your store, 
The rosy-colored wine 
That cheers me more and more. 
Too short the time, O maids, 
We dwell with thee and Mirth, 
But long among the shades 
Are we with Mother Earth. 



0Utt<J 



For every cup of pleasure d^tttAI* 

There is a cup of rue, 

For every happy measure (j*^ 

A rhyme of sorrow, too. 

Still, let us live and drink, 

Still, let us live and sing; 

We know not on the brink 

What our last day may bring. 

Oh, that the sons of Greed 
Were not the lords of gold, 
That Worth were prince indeed 
And master of the fold, 
How many hearts that bleed 
Might laugh and leap in glee — 
No longer slaves to Need 
But free among the free. 

O bard that findest Fate 
Hast closed her tents to thee 
And therefore ceased debate 
This side Eternity, 
A brother to the stone 
And almoner to Pain 
Remember not alone 
Thou knockest, and in vain. 

The day wherein that I 
Am to myself unknown — 
No more a passer-by, 
A myth unto mine own — 
Mixed with the All again, 
Hope that I may renew 
Myself, and be to men 
More helpful and more true. 



bmat 



Thy hand, O Lord, didst sow; 
I am what thou didst will; 
i/ What tares, what wheat shall grow 

The Reaper reapeth still. 
How can I change Thy way? 
How can I set at nought 
What since the primal day 
Wast written in thy thought? 

1238 These high and mighty lords, 
Beset by care and grief, 
The same as all the hordes 
Of this small life and brief, 
Still frown and view with scorn 
Their brothers of the dust 
Who happen to be born 
To lesser rounds of lust. 

239 Behold, the bard is fled 
And the sad season sighs, 
And the last rose is dead 
Where the old poet lies. 
Oh, the pearls they were few 
The cold world cared to thrid, 
And the throng never knew 
What his rich bosom hid. 

240 With some fast friend to sit, 
Or wander through the grove; 
To sound the sea of wit, 
To taste the sweets of love, 
Say, what hath life more good 
Or this old sphere more fair? 
They fire the very blood 
And dull the sting of care. 



0un<j 



241 Oh, love is like a fire (ftttt/ll* 
That's kindled in the breast, „ 
Which Heaven doth inspire \j*£' 
To be of worth the test. 
And where the altar burns 
With bright and willing ray, 
To it the god returns 
With incense day by day. 

242 One glance of love is more 
Than many looks that frown; 
The ruby wine we pour, 
Is better than a crown. 
What is more fair than Truth? 
Go, seek her fount and live; 
She is immortal youth 
And hath a world to give. 

243 When I the race behold 
In ignorance asleep, 
And think on those untold 
That lie so dusty-deep, 
I sigh, yet mourn me more 
To think of men to come — 
Born to this sodden store, 
And in a time so dumb. 

244 Thy mercy hath no end, 
Therefore I do not fear; 
Thy goodness is a friend 
That journeys with me here. 
The terrors of the Book 
Are not Thy terrors, Lord; 
To Thee I will but look, 
And Thy unwritten Word. 



eun§ 



I saw in the bazaar 
A potter knead his clay, 
C/ And as the Morning Star 

Hints silently of Day, 
I heard a small voice chime: 
"Be merciful to me 
That once upon a time 
Wast not unlike to thee." 

246 A loan is all thou hast 
Of this world's pomp and gear, 
And it falls due at last 
And leaves thee ashes here. 
Set not thy heart on things 
The soul doth scorn as dross; 
The mind that only clings 
To truth can laugh at loss. 

247 To-day the sky is fair, 
The dew has laved the rose 
And through the gentle air 
A laughing odor goes. 
Now sings the nightingale, 
Deep hidden in the grove, 
Her ever wondrous tale 
Of melody and love. 

248 May this love for the fair 
But increase with the years; 
In the land of Despair, 
In the valley of Tears, 
May it gleam as a light, 
Or a beacon at sea, 
Leading on through the night 
To the temple of Thee. 



The great wheel turns, and lo! (^flt/lt* 

The Potter shapes his clay. 
And as new vessels grow, v£^' 

The old are cast away. ftUYkfi' 

Could youth and beauty feel -3 

What dreams they soon shall prove. 
How they would curse the Wheel 
And doubt the lips of Love. 

250 When far my soul shall pass 
From this bid ruin gray, 
And as dead leaves of grass 
This house is whirled away, 
With what supreme content 
Shall I the Builder see 
Recast this earthly tent — 
That shall not shelter me. 

251 Again the cheek of Dawn 
Is blushing in the east. 

O youth! ere she is gone, 
Spread thou the rosy feast. 
Wait not, nor dream of her, 
But flee into her arms; 
Be her first worshipper 
And last to view her charms. 

252 What boots it where we climb? 
Again to earth we fall, 

And knowing the Sublime 
Seem farther from the All. 
Proud Intellect! with scorn 
The Heavens note thy flight, 
And match thy every morn 
With equal show of night. 

J 



(DtfttoV * n "S* 1 * S°°d company 
-jj Good wine alone should flow; 

\JvC/ And there should Laughter be 

0U1tCr ^ nc * ^it ms wonders show. 

-J Oh, wine was never aged 

For other souls than those 
Whom Wisdom hath engaged 
And high-born honor knows. 

254 The joys of life are thine; 
Forswear them not, I pray; 
With Laughter, Love and Wine 
Be friends the while you may. 
Too soon the frosts of Time 
The fields of youth destroy, 
And every lyric rhyme 

Ends with a dirge to Joy. 

255 The wind drinks up the leaves 
Of all the roses fair; 

The morn the dew deceives 
And drinks the grasses bare. 
The greedy groves do drain 
The nightingale of song, 
And while we here remain 
Let us drink deep and long. 

256 Oh, not to-morrow, Sweet, 
Of kisses let us dream; 
Who knows our sandaled feet 
May cross to-morrow's stream? 
Propitious is the hour 

For love and laughter now; 
Time breathes upon the flower 
And vacant is the bough. 



€>mat 



257 If in a future state 
A perfect bliss be ours, 
Why mourn or hesitate \J>£' 
To pluck life's morning flowers? 
Choose thou the sunny path 
And shun the gloomy waste; 
What Heaven only hath 
We should not fear to taste. 

258 When friends refuse to pour 
The merry wine for me, 
And April skies no more 
The budding blossoms see, 
Then will I cast aside 
The Muse and her delights, 
And take another bride 
To sigh for rainy nights. 

259 The hills themselves would leap 
With ecstasy divine 
Shouldst thou each rocky steep 
But drench with rosy wine. 
The trees would laugh with glee 
And clap their hands for hours 
Could they, like thee and me, 
Command these ruby showers. 

260 In the kingdom of Soul 
Oh, whisper not of earth, 
Nor round its borders roll 
The careless noise of mirth; 
It is a realm, forsooth, 
Where Contemplation dwells, 
And all its laws are Truth, 
Whose voice is Israfel's. 



fi}*y>Af Make fellowship with Truth 

And to her temples go, 
(JvC/ And thou the golden youth 

ftXltoft Of all the gods shalt know. 

15 Move, therefore, to thy end 

With stateliness and grace, 
And thy Eternal Friend 
Shall greet thee face to face. 

161 Nor slave nor tyrant be 
And humble be thy nest, 
So shall Tranquillity 
Count thee among her blest. 
A crust, with calm content, 
A draught from nature's spring, 
And kingdoms may be rent 
Nor thou lose anything. 

163 Sometimes the stream is clear, 
Sometimes a torrent dark, 
Yet from the margin here 
All fearless I embark. 
I know the Fountain-head 
Is bright as brightest day 
And soon shall overspread 
And wash the dark away. 

164. The wisdom of good cheer 
Let every mortal learn, 
And in his bosom clear 
The light of courage burn — 
A store of happiness 
Against some famine fierce — 
When no bright blossoms bless 
And thorns the sandals pierce. 



16$ If you befriends of mine tDwi&t 

Your vain discourses cease ^^ 

And fill my cup with wine, \K£' 

The dreamy wine of peace. ftUftA" 

I would not that my dust iJ 

Be moistened by your grief 
Since nourish soon it must 
The bridal bud and leaf. 

266 We go no step beyond 
The bounds of what we are, 
Nor in our dreaming fond 
Reach one eternal star 
Outside ourselves, forsooth; 
Our hell in conscience lies, 
And Yore the throne of Truth 
We fix our paradise. 

267 Give me of joy to-day 
And let to-morrow bring, 
Oh, whatsoever may 

Be hid beneath her wing. 
They talk of paradise 
And of the glories there; 
To-day, to-day mine eyes 
Would feast upon the fair. 

268 At times my heart doth seem 
Shut in a prison cell, 
Where it can only dream 
Of what it loves so well. 

O liberty and light! 
Alas, ye are denied 
Until the hand of Might 
Puts these cold chains aside. 



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The moon of Ramazan 
O Sweet, will soon appear, 
£ $ And in its splendor wan 

>u ^£, Frown coldly on good cheer. 

8UTI 5 Another kiss, I pray; 

So holy and so pure, 
It can but shame the ray 
That would such passion cure. 

270 The Potter that with thought 
And skill and judgment fine 
His helpless clay hath wrought 
To beautiful design — 

Will He in anger sore 
Condemn what He hath made 
And prove Himself no more 
Than 'prentice at his trade? 

27 1 Oh, the wine in the glass 
Is like unto a flame, 
Or the blush of a lass 
That hears her lover's name. 
Drink, then, and happy be _ 
And warm thy heart the while, 
Lest Sorrow sadden thee,^ 
Till thou no more can smile. 

272 Oh, nought of glory, Lord, 
Is this poor life to Thee, 
And can I shame Thy Word, 
However mean I be? 
Forgive me, then, that I 

So follow this old earth; 

We cannot well defy 

The one who gave us birth. 



273 We wallow deep in greed, fam/ir 
We walk with Pomp and Pride v^ m «* 
And on the feasts we feed Q>C/ 
Of every sin beside. ttu%%/r 
Oh, Thy forgiveness, Lord, eWI *3 
Full pardon in Thy sight, 

Since Thou with sweet accord 
Canst make our black as white. 

274 Alas, the heart can find 
No comfort in this round, 
Nor can the prying mind 
The deeps of being sound. 
My soul is sick to go 

And yet I know not where — 
But from this sphere of woe 
To some diviner air. 

275 When the day in the east 
With opal splendor blooms, 
Behold how it doth feast 
On dews born of the glooms. 
So these dark lives of ours 
Some brightness may distil, 
Which Truth for her own flowers 
May claim and cherish still. 

276 How long wilt thou be vain 
And count thee more than chaff? 
Dost thou not know to gain 
The world is but to laugh? 
Part of the All thou art, 

And wert thou king of kings, 
Thou couldst but play a part 
That soon were one with things. 






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Beloved, bid them bring 
Fresh roses for our brows, 
And bid the singers sing, 
While we revow our vows. 
The future will not heed 
The tombs where we shall lie, 
Nor our inscriptions read 
To find its treasures by. 

278 Oh, the heart that is learned 
In the love of the vine 
Not easily is turned 

On the Koran to dine. 
Let the fond devotee 
Himself fasting employ, 
But oh bring not to me 
Just the promise of joy. 

279 If thou wouldst happy be 
Seek not the ways of wealth; 
Be thankful to be free 
And for the boon of health. 
Set not thy heart on things 
That laden thee with care; 
To nature's crystal springs 
Fly oft and worship there. 

280 Two paths before us lead; 
One is a darksome way, 
One through a pleasant mead 
With many blossoms gay. 
Fear not to choose, nor vex 
Thee at the happy choice, 
Since in this great vortex 
Thou hast not final voice. 



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281 'Tis said that at the last 
Our Gentle Friend will rave 
And His poor children cast \£*t/ 
In some unfathomed cave. 
From Goodness Good alone 
In endless stream doth pour; 
Fear not that the Unknown 
Is less than truth, or more. 

282 Before thy name is tossed 
Into the night of time, 
Be no glad moment lost 
To sing a merry rhyme. 
Unbind the tresses fair 
Of her the gods have sent, 
And wreathe thy roses there 
With love and be content. 

283 Dash down the glass of fame 
And fill the cup again; 
There's nothing in a name 
Nor in the praise of men. 
Behold the wine of day 
Incarnadine the east! 
Now fades the night away 
And Glory spreads her feast. 

284 Oh, search that ends in nought; 
Oh, path that leads to night, 
How fruitless is our thought, 
How limited our sight. 
Stars, stars and ever stars 
With not one glimpse of Thee, 
But age — and grief — and scars, 
And longing to be free. 
k 



ftttldt Before the knave or clown, 

Oh, mention not her name 






Lest some rude thought should drown 
The perfume of her fame; 
But only where the bright 
Their lofty converse hold, 
Speak thou of her, since light 
Loves light, and gold loves gold. 

286 Oh, Wheel of highest Heaven 
Thou flllest us with grief; 
The joy to us is given 
Thou makest all too brief; 
Thou changest in an hour 
The smile into a tear, 
And sendest every flower 
Too soon unto its bier. 

1287 When in the Book of Love 
Thy name is written, Dear, 
Of all the powers above 
Thou needest have no fear. 
Eternity cannot 
Erase the legend fair, 
Nor wilt thou be forgot 
By any worthy there. 

288 Who loves the cheek of Morn 
Rich-tinted with the rose, 
Ah, he has felt the thorn 
That in his garden grows. 
Alas, the dreams of bliss 
That with our waking go! 
Alas, the thorns they miss 
Who see no roses blow! 



0Utt<J 



289 In love forget thy care d^tttAtf 
And end Misfortune's reign, Tl 

Go, drink the finer air \jyt/ 

Of mountain and of plain, 

Whose alchemy is such 

That life shall prove a boon; 

Go, put it to the touch — 

And court the lady Moon. 

290 Give me to eat that I 
May feed this soul of mine, 
Until it leaves to fly 
In ether more divine. 
I covet paradise; 
Let me not fall, I ask, 
But ever as I rise 
Grow stronger with the task. 

291 When in the spring the flowers 
Are blooming everywhere, 
Light tarries in his bowers 
And gentle grows the air. 
Oh, who can blame mankind 
If with a lightsome heart 
And with a merry mind 
It plays the lover's part? 

292 Oh, dwellers in the tombs, 
What more than dust are we 
That soon unto your glooms 
Shall enter and be free? 
Give me to drink the wine 
Of that which yet shall prove 
A ministrant divine 
To some sweet soul I love! 



AVfl£f Beloved one and sweet, 
It ever seems to me 



eung 



t/ That when we chance to meet 

My soul is lost to thee. 
Enough of paradise! 
If ever I might sit 
And gaze into those eyes 
And drink thy ready wit. 

294 To search the livelong night 
For truth among the stars; 
To send from light to light 
High thought in flaming cars — 
Such is a pleasure keen 
That is not all of earth; 
While mighty lords careen 
In their proud fields of worth. 

295 Oh, not within thy heart 
The plant of woe sustain, 
But bid the seedling start 
Of joy, and mark the gain; 
And like a garden fair 
The blossoming shall be 
With every fragrance there 
To cheer and comfort thee. 

296 Thou settest many snares 
Wherein our feet may fall, 
And sayest: "Whoso fares 
This way shall lose his all." 
Since Thou dost know how weak 
Thy children are, O Lord, 
What credit shouldst Thou seek 
From those who are restored? 



297 The way thou goest, friend, (fttftAl* 
The yet unborn shall go, t£ 

On — on unto the end \Jv£' 

Of this delusive show — KVLWft 

And soon the Potter's hand -3 

Will shape thy shapeless clay 
As fancy may demand, 
Weep thou or smile to-day. 

298 Happy is he, O friend, 
That never mounts to fame, 
Nor sees his fellows bend 
At mention of his name, 
Since better 'tis to reign 
Possessor of the crown 

Of quiet peace than gain 
The kingdom of renown. 

299 Yea, like unto a face, 

O lovely Rose thou art, 
In which celestial grace 
Is mirrored from the heart. 
A dear familiar friend 
Thou seemest unto me, 
In whom there is no end 
Of love and charity. 

300 Drunk with the dross of earth, 
How sodden we become 

To things of active worth, 
And blind and deaf and dumb. 
Bubbles and butterflies 
Man chases to his doom, 
Drowns woe in woe, and dies — 
A tomb within a tomb. 



0tm<5 



&}\\tAt ^ ot to t ^ ie sma ^ °f heart, 
Nor to the cheap of wit, 

(JvC/ Is given the honored part 

With the elect to sit. 
Who knoweth not the rose 
Unto its soul is lost — 
A worm that in it grows 
Yet is a worm at most. 

302 Thou only, Lord, canst ope 
The gate revealing Thee, 
Thou only art the hope, 
The fount that saveth me. 
My hand in Thine alone 
With confidence I place 
Though dark the great Unknown 
And hidden be Thy tace. 

303 Lo! drunken with a dream 
I wasted half my life 
In drifting down the stream 
That knew nor toil nor strife. 
Alas! the dreadful cost; 
I fear me in this hour, 
To Age is wholly lost 
The fruitage of the flower. 

304 Knee-deep we wade in sin 
And thy commandments break, 
And in this wordly din 
Forget thee and forsake; 
Yea when beset by shame 
And victims of our pride, 
We curse Thy holy name 
And pierce Thy tender side. 



Engrossed with this vain world (F}tt\/\Y 
And blind to higher things, 
If to destruction hurled \*}*l' 

I would not ask for wings. fftltUt 

Thus for a stoup of wine -J 

I pawned myself as wage; 
The tapster said, in fine: 
"Lo! what a perfect gage!" 

While nightingales have sown 
With song the shadows deep, 
How many nights have flown 
Nor touched our lids with sleep. 
Before the breath of day 
Shall waken hearts to pain, 
Go not; for once away, 
How many nights shall wane! 

Two things are wisdom's base 
And time's eternal glory, 
The safeguard of the race 
And triumph's laurel story: 
Believe not all that's writ 
Of man or god or devil, 
And never flank your wit 
With forces kin to evil. 

Oh, haughty devotee, 
Art thou the rod of scorn, 
That thou shouldst leer at me 
And be my rose's thorn? 
Away! and with thee take 
Cant and hypocrisy; 
I care not to forsake 
The friends I love, for thee. 



0un<j 



(ftttt At* Spring unfoldeth her sweet buds 
rl And autumn hurls away, 

(jvC' Until the naked woods, 

As our spent lives, are gray. 
O memory of times 
When we were only young 1 
How sad are April's rhymes 
By old December sung. 

310 Oh thou whose heart should be 
Remorse's inmost shrine, 
Why dost thou rail at me 
Or pray for me or mine? 
If God should answer thee, 
Methinks that Satan might, 
Upon his bended knee, 
Set all the world aright. 

3 1 1 Art full of heaviness? 
Go, eat the food of dreams, 
Or to thy hot lips press 
The grape's delicious streams. 
Refusing that or this, 
Go nibble of thy crust, 
And the dry altar kiss 
That's only fed with dust. 

312 Reason, no longer I 
Will be thy foolish slave, 
But will the pleasure try 
That life at starting gave. 
If fifty years I stay 
Or one, it matters not; 
The Potter gets his clay 
And we are soon forgot. 



313 A wise man once I met d3ltt&t 

And with a drunkard's face, ^ 

And as the wine he set, vl>£' 

I said with solemn grace: tfUttfl" 

"The absent — where are they?" -3 

Said he: "Drink! unconcerned; 
Many have gone away 
That never have returned." 

3 14 Who brought me here — or Woe 
Or Weal — I cannot say; 

The joys of life, I know, 
Exalt my soul to-day. 
The voice of love is dear, 
The sounding lute is sweet, 
The blooming garden here 
An unwatched Eden-seat. 

315 The world's great rose, the dawn, 
Has blossomed in the east; 
And, ere the blush be gone, 
Spread thou the rosy feast. 

Lo! Jamschid and his peers, 
And yet a thousand kings, 
Sleep in the tomb of years 
O'er which this glory springs. 

316 I drink my mellow wine, 
And there are some who say 
'Tis foe of the divine, 
And bid me turn away. 
Now, therefore, am I proud; 
As I the creed oppose, 

I drink, since 'tis allowed 
To drink the blood of foes. 
1 



sun<$ 



If I in will were free 

And free from wordly fate, 

I had not come to be 

The plaything of this state; 

Or had I chosen life, 

And yet could have my will, 

Despite the bitter strife, 

Td hug my phantoms still. 

318 How is it grapes are sour, 
And then are sweet, I pray? 
How is it that the flower 
Has not the fruit's bouquet? 
How is it that the hand 
Can fashion lutes to-day, 
To-morrow thrill the land 
Sword-thrusting in the fray? 

319 Came one, foul-favored, gaunt, 
Rag-clad and sexless, pale, 
And with a silent taunt 
Made all our laughter fail: 
Broke in his ghostly hand 
Life's flagon in a trice, 
As though the deed were grand 
And wine without a price. 

320 Things past and things to come — 
Coeval I shall be 
With them in my last home, 
Heir to antiquity, 
And to the future heir. 
Why, then, should this short hour 
Provoke me with its care 
Or I seek fame or power? 



321 Out upon the hypocrite ftttt&t 
And out upon the vain, ^y 
And in with spritely wit vi*^' 
And in with Laughters train. 0UUCT 
These gaudy robes of prayer, -* 
These turbans of the great 

I'd sell for any spare 

Old heart of honest weight. 

322 When at her feet, O Heart, 
Thou tremblest in a dream, 
Lost to thyself, thou art 
Thyself in her bright beam. 
Yea, wandering before, 
Thou wast a desert child 
That at her shining door 
Art found, and reconciled. 

313 The path of Truth pursue, 
No creed can more demand; 
To them that ask of you 
Close not too tight the hand. 
Speak ill of none, and do 
No wrong to any man: 
Heaven has no broader view 
Nor gods a better plan. 

324 Bestir thyself; thy home, 
Perforce, awhile is here, 
Beneath the starry dome 
Of this unfeeling sphere; 
If earth is earth, at least 
With hope about it move; 
Look ever to the east 
And sound the depths of love. 



B\m$ 



/TSyhAY ° n > heart, thou canst not learn 
IV The secret all would know, 

(JvC/ But every night return 

Unto the morning's woe. 

If so thou canst, create 

On earth thy heaven to-day; 

If thou shalt love or hate 

The future, who can say? 

326 If thou hast wit, seem dull, 
That from sweet Wisdom come 
Thy cup with knowledge full, 
And thou be not so dumb. 
But is thy learning small, 
Seem deep, and haunt the wise, 
That from their lips may fall 
The best that in them lies. 

327 Oh, would that we might be 
Just Honor's thrall and thine, 
Modest Simplicity, 
That hath a face divine; 
The burdens we must bear 
Were lighter than the wind, 
And all the world were fair 
And every glance were kind. 

328 Couldst thou but understand 
One petal of this rose, 
Oh 'twere voluble, and 
Thou wouldst know what Heaven know 
Cease, cease thy delving, friend, 
The Truth thou canst not find 
Until this journey end 
In Universal Mind. 



329 An Aristotle, wise; &}\%iftY 

A Roman Caesar, great; rn 

Or, under eastern skies vj^' 

Some grand Mogul of state, — KUftCT 

Yet would I say to thee -J 

Partake of Jamschid's wine; 
The grave thy end shall be, 
Nor Bahrain's less than thine. 

330 Unto a sot a shiekh 

Did cast the stone of blame, 
Who answered him: "Go seek 
The man that is not lame; 
Thy servant is not whole; 
Yet in thy heart but gaze 
And tell me if thy soul 
Condemns thee or doth praise." 

^2 1 Youth, wine and love have we, 
Beloved of my soul, 
For what can these gifts be? 
Oh, surely not for dole. 
The first of these will go, 
The last may vanish soon; 
Bring wine, bring wine, that woe 
Come not till afternoon. 

332 That hermit of the breast, 
The heart that never sleeps, 
With what unwearied zest 
At his vain task he keeps. 
Deny him not, I pray, 
A draught of ruddy wine; 
Oh, to be old and gray 
Yet know not the divine. 



sun<$ 



(fttttAt* ^ sorry path we travel 
„ In this old world of ours, 

^JvC/ A path of cant and cavil — 

A path of thorns and flowers. 

Oh, blame us not if we 

Do sometimes please the Devil, 

Mistaking what we see 

For good, and finding evil. 

334 See how the jar doth try 
To drink this ruby tide, 
Yet ever goeth dry — 
When long we sit beside. 
Oh, Tantalus of mine, 
I would that I had might 
To let thee sip this wine 
And taste of my delight. 

335 This mortal house is more 
Decrepit than we know; 
Not longer than three score 
Set thou the date to go; 
And while the Shadow stays 
Beyond thy threshold fair, 
Bridge not with gloom thy days, 
Nor beckon to him there. 

336 Away with care, arise 
And sing a jolly song, 
Now while the sunny skies 
Float their white ships along. 
Accept the gifts that Heaven 
Doth offer day by day, 
For sparingly is given 
The blooms that fade away. 



Omar 



337 When I do dream I see 
The fields of paradise, 
Earth from her winter free, \£>£? 
And naught but summer skies. fftm/t 
Oh, happy sleep, if thou BUTHj 
Couldst delegate thy power, 

The woes that haunt me now 
Were roses in an hour. 

338 Fear not to follow, Sweet, 
Where Beauty leads the way; 
Her fairy-sandaled feet 
Seek but the heights of day. 
Her voice is Israfel's, 

Her eyes are kin to stars, 
And her bright passing tells 
The legend of no wars. 

339 Through love of tawdry things 
Our reason is no more; 
Content has taken wings 
And Honor barred his door. 
Ye Gods ! we are but earth, 
Fine dust before our time; 
And what the soul is worth 

I venture not in rhyme. 

340 Oh, Flagon, friend of mine, 
Whose cheeks are like the rose, 
Ambassador of Wine 

And soother of our woes, 
What better friend hath man, 
As thou dost swiftly run 
To lift the heavy ban 
Of grief, and pour the sun! 



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(f}tlWl!* Cup-bearer, those that hence 
„ Have gone are lapped in dust, 

(JvC/ The wise, the poor of sense, 

The unjust and the just, 
The unkind and the kind; 
All sleep as equals now; 
The words they spake — the wind 
That stirs this leafy bough. 

342 Upon us Thou hast set 
A seal we may not read; 
Thou takest in thy net, 
Thou goadest us, indeed. 
Since, Lord, thou madest me 
A blinded worm of earth, 
How can I better be 
Than what I have of worth? 

343 Beloved, this is wise: 
To lighten loads of men 
And set before their eyes 
The feasts of love again; 
To smooth the path, to give, 
To share what we call ours; 
To bid the fainting live 
Not on the thorns, but flowers. 

344 Art Thou not Lord of All? 
And am I not Thy slave? 
Who sins if I do fall? 
Who gains if Thou dost save? 
The living and the dead 
Are subject to Thy will; 
And what have I to dread, 
Thy helpless subject still? 



345 Offspring of whirling Chance, (f^tttAt* 
Think not that thou canst learn rl 
The maze of Circumstance — d>C/ 
The dead no more return. ffutt ft 
Therefore, I say, serene, -J 
And with a fearless heart, 

Live well in thy demesne 
And like a king depart. 

346 O Thou ! hidden to man, 
Yet in thy works displayed, 
Say, who may know thy plan ? 
The Maker not the made. 
Alone Thou art of truth 
Spectator and the play, 

We but the motes, forsooth, 
That drift across Thy day. 

347 If famous, you're maligned, 
And praise to bitter turns; 
Secluded dwell, you'll find 
The act suspicion earns. 
The middle course is best 
For prophet or for saint; 
Who follows it may rest, 
Perchance, without a taint. 

348 To lighten one sad heart 
Is better than much fame 
Blown from the heights of Art — 
And bears a sweeter name. 
With charity to bind 

Thy former foe to thee 
Is more than heroes find 
In kingdoms they set free, 
m 



&matr 

0Utt<$ 



Lo! from the startled tower 
The loud muezzin floats; 
C/ Awake, it is the hour 

To cheer our thirsty throats. 
Oh, babble not a prayer, 
The Heavens are weary grown; 
But grasp the goblet there 
And make its soul thine own. 

3 50 If I of Mirth am friend 
And revel at his side, 
Oh, blame me not, the end 
Is soon, and earth shall hide. 
Since there is peace in joy, 
To lesser things farewell; 
When happiness doth cloy 
'Tis time with Gloom to dwell. 

351 Upon this strutted stage 
How friendship bites the dust; 
Priests, Kings — they have their wage, 
And Virtue turns to Lust. 
Beware! Grieve not to find 
Thy dearest friend thy foe 
The rose that scents the wind 
Hath her own thorn to show. 

352 Oh who from this fair bower 
With rose-o'erclambered roof, 
And love to charm the hour, 
Would long remain aloof? 
Let others sing of mirth 
In other kingdoms found; 
Give me the joys of earth, 
While I to earth am bound. 



353 A hermit once I saw d^ttt/lt* 

In a vast wilderness; 

Nor god, nor creed, nor law, \£*l' 

Nor wealth, nor yet distress, ffUttd" 

Nor learning had the man. -J 

What courage like to this, 

That, mapping out its plan, 

Asks not, hopes not, for bliss? 

354 And wouldst thou at thy feet 
Have this old world, my friend? 
Oh, scorn it, and retreat, 
Unto the very end, 

Into thyself; and lo! 
Thou art a sage divine; 
But mix with it — and know 
It makes thee but as swine. 

355 'Tis well among our kind 
To merit their esteem, 
And ill it is to blind 
Ourselves to nature's Scheme. 
But better far is this: 

To be far gone in wine 
Than with a traitor's kiss 
Betray the Thought Divine. 

356 Oh, from this whirl let me 
But for a moment pass, 
That I myself may be. 
What dreams are in the glass! 
What paradise looks down 
With fond inviting gaze! 
And shall I seek the crown 
Or go my happy ways? 



6UYl$ 



AVjl>tf Bring hither wine, the juice 
nr% That, like a blossom chain, 

(JvC/ Ensnares with ruddy noose 

King, clown and hardy swain. 

One of the three am I 

And two am surely not; 

Or this or that, to die 

Is but to be forgot. 

358 The Wheel of Heaven turns 
And lo! What things are we: 
Or lowly jars, or urns 
Of aristocracy. 
It matters not, my Dear, 
What service we may do, 
If while our souls are here 
They still contain the true. 

359 Weary us not with care 
When pleasure knocks without; 
Enough, and yet to spare 
Is there of grief about. 
But Happiness this way 
Comes not when we command, 
And any time she may 
Forsake her native land. 

360 Last night a long-lost Hope 
Again came back to me 
And said: "Thy portal ope 
And let me dwell with thee." 
"Not so," I said; "awake 
No dream I may not win." 
She said: "For my love's sake." 
I rose and let her in. 



0Utt<$ 



361 Through dusky fields I went (fVftAl* 
With Beauty at my side, „ 
When lo! the firmament \}M/ 
Grew sweetly glorified, 
A light from her did spring 
That scared the night away, 
And birds began to sing 
Believing it was day. 

362 Yea, one by one they go, 
The foolish and the wise; 
Disdain the cup of woe 
And let the sweet arise. 
Spill all these cups of tears 
And fill them with a laugh, 
And bid the flying years 
The brighter nectar quarT. 

363 When our two souls no more 
Inhabit frames of clay, 
Earth, throwing wide her door, 
Shall hide the wreck away; 
And we shall sleep as one 
That were before as two — 
When this sad race is run 
That keeps my soul from you. 

364 That palace of our state, 
Once reared to heaven high, 
Wherein proud monarchs sate, 
In ruins now doth lie. 
And lo! we saw the dove 
In sole possession there, 
And heard the pile above 
Her plaintive, "Where? Where?" 



0un<j 



(f^tttA!? ^° ^ on & as Beauty reigns 
nn And truth her kingdom is, 

^|vC/ Oh give thy heart no pains, 

Nor seek a higher bliss, 
'Tis wiser far to love 
The fair sweet face of her 
Who loves, than be, above, 
A peri's worshiper. 

366 Devoid of hope and mirth, 
My heart has grown to be 
But ashes on the hearth 
Of this old hostelry. 
My dreams — bright guests — are gone 
Gay laughter rings no more, 
And in the rosy dawn 
There creaks a ruined door. 

367 Say, who will buy this earth? 
Two barleycorns will take it; 
If you have one of worth, 
Then only one Til make it. 
Bring wine; this life is vain 
Without the ring of laughter; 
There is no sense in pain, 
Here nor in hereafter. 

368 Oh, cold are Wisdom's halls, 
No laugh is rippled there, 
And there the footstep falls 
With heaviness and care. 
Give me the haunts of Love, 
Where Beauty walks divine, 
And, singing through the grove, 
A fountain — and some wine. 



369 The life that in us dwells (ftttt/11* 
Bids our strong spirits soar Tjf 

To where that fountain wells \J*£' 

Which sings for evermore. ftUYkfr 

Alas ! one draught we sip -J 

And lo! to earth we fall; 
Joy bitters on the lip 
And darkness shadows all. 

370 Now nightingales rejoice 
And roses scent the air, 
And, lo! the fountain's voice 
Is laughing everywhere. 
What time have we to ope 
The musty Koran, Sweet, 
When nature, full of hope, 
Flings lyrics at our feet? 

371 The mantle of this earth 
I cannot put aside, 

Nor in the guise of mirth 
Mine ancient sorrow hide. 
Master am I of nought 
In this great school of Care; 
Though graduate in thought, 
Still pupil of Despair. 

372 To you this mortal cell 
Is an immortal's inn, 
Where for a time doth dwell 
What heaven soon shall win. 
Think not the Judas-tree 
Brings forth the jasmine bud, 
Nor that clear water be 

The grape's delightful blood. 






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Just truth and beauty — these, 
Around this world of ours, 
Fill all our treasuries 
With amaranthine flowers. 
Let prophets old, and seers, 
Their dogmas wild maintain; 
When they are gone, the years 
Still fragrant shall remain. 

374 Oh thou who hast not seen 
The friends of youth depart, 
Whose every path is green 
With spring's unstudied art, 
In days to come, vex not 
Thy soul at Fate's decrees, 
Be brave, content with what 
The winter shall not seize. 

375 Be kind, O friend to all, 

And Khayyam's wisdom learn; 
Leave bitter fruit to fall 
And to the sweet return. 
Pluck roses and then weave 
Into a garland bright; 
Let rue and nightshade grieve 
With nightingales and night. 

376 Were all earth's treasures thine, 
O Mullah, what avail, 

When at the last the sign 
Of death makes thee grow pale? 
How foolish, then, thy heed 
To gather more and more, 
When nothing shalt thou need 
Of all thy bubble store. 



mnc$ 



2JJ Think not the fleeting hour (fowtAY 

Should all unheeded die; CD 

Oh, like the blooming flower \Jv£' 

Pass not its beauty by. 
The bud that is unborn, 
The blossom that is past — 
They are not ours; the morn 
That breaks, oh hold it fast. 

378 Had I the heaven's making, 
From this gray earth I'd banish 
All sorrow and the aching, 
And dreams that only vanish. 
New heavens I would fashion 
As bright as they were spacious, 
Where man, devoid of passion, 
Were free as I were gracious. 

379 Each day at dawn I haste 
Unto the house of wine, 
With boon companions taste 
The wisdom of the vine. 

Thou who hast the key 
To all that life doth hide: 
Griefs flagon — why so freeP 
Joy's cup — why so denied? 

380 Thanks to the crafty Sun, 
And thanks to fleeting Time, 
Old earth at last has won 
The glory of my prime. 
Caverns these cheeks for tears, 
This heart a cup for grief; 

1 only ask the years 
To make my sojourn brief. 
n 



b\m$ 



&}\\l&t Astronomers point out 
„ A Bull among the stars; 

\JvCz Some say, without a doubt, 

He draweth Heaven's cars. 
Who doubts (oh, they are few) 
A bull this planet gray 
Upholds? Between the two, 
Ye gods! what asses bray. 

382 Behold, the full moon rises; 
Bring music and bring wine; 
With all your sweet devices, 
Come, herald the divine. 
Lo, beauty swift advances! 
Talk not of earth to us; 
In her immortal glances 
Woe grows ridiculous. 

3 83 Oh, vainly for the fair 

And vainly for the sweet, 
We spread the spirit's snare; 
And both are short and fleet. 
'Tis only that which we 
May have we scorn to hold; 
The dross of life is free, 
Unworth the gain the gold. 

3 84 Who gave the right to thee 
To cast at me the stone? 
I am, and therefore free 
To walk my path alone, 
Believing what seems true, 
Rejecting, holding fast, 
So long as what I do 
Harms no one to the last. 



385 Take wealth away, but leave &}mAt 
A right good friend to me, m 
And I no more will grieve \J*t' 
Than any rose you see. attM/t 
But rob me of his heart * UT, 3 
And make me Heaven's heir, 

And I would scorn the part 
And only suffer there. 

386 So deep of Beauty's wine 
My soul would drink that I 
So nearly were divine 

That those who happened by 
Should, seeing me, exclaim: 
"O Beauty! is it thou?" 
Alas! her golden fame 
I only darken now. 

3 87 Before the cup you drain 
That brings eternal sleep, 
Fill all your bins with gain 
And all your measures heap 
For in the realm of rest 
(As all this toil foretells) 
The rich alone are blest, 
The poor alone are hell's. 

388 While time and earth are ours, 
Come, dearest, let us love; 
The dew is on the flowers, 
And mating is the dove. 
The cup awaits us, Sweet, 
Oh let us drain it now; 
Again we may not meet, 
Or, meeting, care not how. 



0Utt<$ 



^a*A« Behold, the cup is bright 
„ With liquid rubies, Dear; 

(JyC/ Oh let their dancing light 

Thy melancholy cheer. 
Give me the blazing bowl 
That I with grief may cope, 
And show unto my soul 
The rising star of hope. 

390 While in this house you live 
Dream not of paradise, 
But what the worth doth give 
Enjoy before it flies. 
Yield not to any foe 
Though mighty Rustum he, 
Nor bond for any go 
Should Hatim ask of thee. 

391 Wouldst thou that Happiness 
Thy boon companion prove, 
Pursue the highway less 
And seek the lanes of love. 
Thatched cottages are hers, 
Field, wood and firmament, 
And her blest worshipers, 
Simplicity, Content. 

392 Farewell to good and ill; 
The miser has no brother; 
The heart is dead and chill 
That beats not for another. 
What though the heavens fall 
And half the race thereafter? 
Saved Greed his gold, 'twere well; 
The wreck were but his laughter. 



393 I saw a potter gray (DlttM 
Bend busy o'er his wheel, nfl% 
And in the well-mixed clay \K£' 
Beheld what years reveal: KXLYttT 

I saw the heads of kings -J 

With feet of beggars there, 
And Glory's golden wings 
Bedraggled by Despair. 

394 O youth! sweet health is thine; 
What needest thou of more? 
No monarch more divine 
Will ever fill thy door. 

The while he is thy guest 
Bethink thee not of care; 
His favors are the best 
That any soul may share. 

395 I broke against a stone 
An earthen jar of mine, 
When with a feeble moan 

The fragments formed this line: 

"Once I was like to thee, 

In ages long ago; 

Soon broken thou shalt be, 

And formless lie as low." 

396 From me to Khayyam go 
And bear my greeting kind, 
And say: O bard, they sow 
But roses on the wind 

If they who drink are wise; 
But if the foolish drink, 
They nettles sow that rise 
Again where least they think. 



6\m$ 



(ftttlAI* ^^ comes and goes my breath 

And keeps my life in me, 

(JvC/ While round about stalks Death, 

From whom I cannot flee. 
The flagon there is low 
In that which entertains, 
Yet who doth ever know 
How much of life remains? 

398 In some fair garden-place 
On roses to recline, 
And thou, with sunny face, 
To pour the rosy wine — 
Oh, many sultans great 
Such joy cannot command; 
Love laughs at bubble state, 
Nor kisses back his hand. 

399 Be not too fond of Folly, 
Nor merely Knowledge woo, 
Since dusky Melancholy 
Is comrade of the two. 
The three are pleasant neighbors 
When kept where they should be, 
And each can sweeten labors 
If sought judiciously. 

400 Lo! in Love's assemblage 
Equality doth reign; 
The beggar, king and page 
Alike his favor gain. 
And one and all may feast; 
The cup of love is free, 
And only he is least 
That's least in sympathy. 



euttg 



401 Thou hast shorn with thy sword (ftm/tf 
All my branches of light, ry ^ 
Thou hast broken me, Lord vK^' 
In the press of thy might. 
Thou hast given my wine 
To the lips of the earth, 
And the hope of the Vine — 
Say, what is it worth? 

402 What empire, Sweet, is this: 
Enough of sparkling wine, 
A cup of which is bliss, 
And two, perchance, divine. 
The realm of Feridoun, 
The crown of Kai-Khosru — 
What are they to the noon 
Of life, red wine and you? 

403 The season now is here 
Of rose and nightingale; 
Close thou the koran, dear, 
For spring's delightful tale. 
My book is laughing eyes 
And cheeks of tulip flame, 
Wherein my heaven lies 
And Love inscribes his name. 

404 To Mustapha, the wise, 
My kindly greetings give, 
And ask what virtue lies 
In solemnness to live; 
Why Alkoran doth frown 
On laughter-loving wine, 
And offers them a crown 
That on the bitter dine. 



0Utt<$ 



dTSftiflY ®^ tnou wno niakest day 
„ Swart servant of thy gain, 

(JvC/ And turnest night away 

With her dream-laden train, 
A time shall come to thee 
When for one little hour 
Thou wouldst forego the fee 
Of all thy golden power. 

406 Our altar is the jar, 
Our oracle the wine, 
And may the day be far 
That rears another shrine. 
What prayers to make we know, 
And, asking, we receive, 
While those to mosque that go 
Gain but the right to grieve. 

407 Give me my dreams to-day, 
To-morrow what you will; 
I cannot throw away 
The hope that haunts me still. 
I would not give the flower 
That blossoms now for me, 
For any promised bower 
That may, or may not, be. 

408 The brown bird tells his tale, 
And blooming is the rose, 
And through the leafy vale 
A spicy odor goes. 
The world forgets its grief, 
And I will mine forget, 
To laugh with bird and leaf 
And banish old Regret. 



409 We are the sometime keys (Dttt At* 
Of life's great instrument, rn 
Whereby Time's melodies \£&' 
Through all the years are sent. ftUYkCr 
Touched by some hand divine, -J 
We voice what note He wills, 

Till, lost in ether fine, 
Alone the silence thrills. 

410 If in the month of fast 
Unto my cup I cling, 
'Tis not I deem that past 
Which can no pleasure bring, 
But that the thought of loss 
So turns my day to night, 

I cannot buy the dross 
And sell the old delight. 

411 I searched the golden pages 
Of love's immortal book, 
And from the sage of sages 
This legend old I took: 
"As happy as a god 

Is he that loveth beauty, 
And, bounden to the sod, 
Is also bound to duty." 

412 I looked into the past 
And of the future thought 
Throughout the world I cast 
The net of Wisdom wrought, 
Yet found but mortals two — 
The one a nothing small, 
The other born to do 

A noble work for all. 



0un<j 



ftSftXCLt Tranquillity, O friend, 
fV% Should thy good motto be; 

^vC/ Think not upon the end, 

Nor of eternity. 

What thou hast done or thought 
Is but an atom's vaunt — 
Too small, where stars are wrought, 
For merit or for taunt. 

414 Hail! Hail! to the green earth, 
The green, green trees above, 
And with as bright a mirth, 
Hail to as bright a love! 
Hail! Hail! the youthful dream, 
And hail the sparkling eye, 
Until by this glad stream 
Beneath the grass we lie. 

415 Quintessence of the sum 
Of all created things, 
Think not what woes shall come 
With their loud-flapping wings. 
One cup from Saki quaff — 
From Saki the divine — 
And thou canst give the laugh 
To ages, in his wine. 

416 Awake, awake! my Flower, 
And sip the wine of morn, 
The Day is in his bower 
And I alone forlorn. 
Come forth, come forth, and be 
The bloom of blooms, my rose, 
That time, beholding thee, 
Forget his mighty woes. 



0Utt<$ 



417 Within the Book of Life ftttt&t 
Joy, sorrow, weal and woe ry ^ 
Make all the chapters rife \J*£' 
With ever-changing flow. 
What boots it where we read, 
Or what the end may be? 
With every rose a weed 
Holds joint supremacy. 

418 The constant babbling cease 
That of the koran tells, 
Give me a little peace — 
The rose that with me dwells; 
She troubles not her wit 
With any thought of grief, 
Since "Paradise" is writ 
On every fragrant leaf. 

419 Why croweth chanticleer 
At dawning of the day? 
To tell you that more dear, 
Dear dreams are slipped away; 
That time is on the wing, 
And that another morn 
Still finds you but a thing 
For laughter and for scorn. 

420 Old earth is full of sorrow, 
And we that from it spring 
Thrive but to-day; to-morrow 
Are but a withered thing. 
The wind that sweetly kisses 
The fragrant rose to-day, 
The morrow never misses 
To whirl in scorn away. 



&mar 



So sodden we are grown 
Thy counsels cheer us not, 
£/ And in our grief alone 

Sin scarcely is forgot. 
Upon ourselves we feed 
In every crumb we eat, 
Since paying Thee no heed 
We cast away the sweet. 

422 Absorb me, Lord, in Thee, 
As Thou art my good friend; 
Me from myself set free 
And all my riddles end. 
Let good and evil cease 
In this poor heart of mine, 
And in the Central Peace 
Let me be wholly Thine. 

423 For this my captive heart 
Have mercy, Lord, I pray, 
And mercy for the part 
In this vain farce I play; 
Yea, mercy for the lips 
That love the ruby bowl, 
And for the foot that slips, 
And for the wayward soul. 

424 I am what Fate decreed; 
A hundred years of time 
Have richly met my need, 
As rhyme doth mate with rhyme. 
Might I but live an age 
And henceforth only sin, 
Thy love could cleanse the page, 
Thy pity fold me in. 






425 Say, who hath never sinned? (fttftAl* 
And who can sin oppose? 71 

Do straws, when comes the wind, v|v£? 
Bend not the way it goes? 0unCf 

If, therefore, thou dost curse -> 

The little fault in me, 
Is curse or curser worse? 
Since all doth come from Thee. 

426 Justice — the soul of earth; 
Our senses — angels bright, 
And the whole sum of worth — 
Humanity and Right. 

This is the mighty One, 
And this the endless Light; 
That not in unison 
Is nothingness and night. 

427 Unworth a barley-corn 
Are all the cares of time, 
Behold, from morn to morn 
We sing a merry rhyme. 
Enough have we — content; 
The woods, the fields, the hills, 
The starry firmament, 

And freedom of our wills. 

428 My poor heart drowned in love, 
Alas! no more may rise 

To be the sharer of 

Hope's ancient paradise; 

But when Love's wine is poured, 

In each red cup I see 

The guests about the board 

Quaff off the blood of me. 



0un<j 



(rttttdtf ^ ess wme t ^ ie y ^d me drink 
„ Who know me not too well; 

\J\t' When I refuse, they think 

Me maddened unto hell. 
So let them think; my wine 
Is my beloved's face, 
Whose smiles and wiles divine 
The world cannot displace. 

430 O thou whose lips are wet 
With life's sweet morning dew, 
I pray thee not forget 
To kiss my cup of rue; 
Which if thou dost, believe, 
I'll drain the cup with bliss, 
And teach my heart to grieve 
That I may taste the kiss. 

43 1 Let us haste to the meads, 
Let us rove by the streams; 
Where the bright fancy leads, 
Let us weave us our dreams. 
Yea, the buds of this hour 
Are the hopes of the past, 
And to-morrow's fair flower 
In the present is cast. 

432 The brain is but an inn 
Where many guests do come 
And some our friendship win 
And only hatred, some. 
Now, for the genial guest 
Be thou the genial host 
And count that day the best 
Wherein the mean is lost. 



433 Wound not the happy heart AtttAf 
Nor any dream destroy, fV% 
Since thou hast not the art, \Jv£' 
At will, to fashion joy. ffUtt<t 
Be bringer of glad news, 25 
And to the hopeless kind — 

The armorer of thews 
That shall his sorrow bind. 

434 Some travel with a creed 
Upon a pleasant road, 
Supplying every need 
And easing every load 
With faith; some hesitate 
To take this path, forsooth, 
When lo! the voice of Fate: 
"In neither way is Truth." 

435 Where are the lips we kissed, 
The eyes as bright as dew? 
How is it we have missed 
The loving and the true? 
Ah, that is turned to dust 
Which was a peri's form; 
And all the world is rust 
And victual for the worm. 

436 Companion of old Wrong, 
Avoider of the right, 

Yet lifting up thy song 
To Him who is the Light, 
Beware; the path is straight, 
Nor is he more secure 
Who, vauntful, seeks the Gate 
Than he who shuns the pure. 



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(ftttUir Oh, just with Joy to dwell 
„ In some delightful vale! 

(JvC/ The saddest dream to tell 

That of the nightingale; 
With Love to pour the wine 
And Beauty's eyes for light — 
Forsooth, with thee and thine, 
To be the king of night. 

438 This heaven-arching dome 
Commands the wise man's awe, 
While those who stagger home 
Know neither hope nor law. 
The cup and jar know not 
The spirit they contain; 
They merely squander what 
It was no toil to gain. 

439 A drop from ocean tossed 
Lamented its sad fate, 
To be an exile lost 
To every crystal mate. 
The great old Ocean spake: 
" Still thy art one with me, 
Since All but One doth make, 
And I am part of thee." 

440 Is there no place to rest, 
No path that leads thereto? 
Yea, in the earth's great breast 
Is peace for me and you. 
Oh, that in after years, 
When we must live again, 
That we come forth as spears 
Of grass, and not as men. 



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441 Oh, not for this old earth dDtttdf 
Let any tear be shed, ^ 

But steep your soul in mirth \J>^' 

And count it dross instead; 

For what is gain of it 

But loss of all that's true? 

The blossom has more wit, 

And scorns what misers do. 

442 Friend, know thyself; and say 
What hither didst thou bring. 
What canst thou take away 
Of gold or anything? 
Thou wouldst not take thy woe. 
Then happy be while here; 
Or grief, or joy, we know 
The end is but the bier. 

443 Let not the world oppress, 
Nor vex thy soul with thought 
That they are nothingness 
Who once at thy wheel wrought. 
To beauty freely give 
The best that life can claim, 
That they who later live 
Look high to read thy name. 

444 That hour wherein we drink 
Of beauty and of truth 
We stand upon the brink 
Of everlasting youth. 
Age cannot dim the soul 
Whose flight from morn to morn 
Is toward that lofty goal 
Where love and light are born. 

P 



&Swk/\f This laughing fountain here 
jyi That sparkles in the sun, 

\i\t/ Like our two spirits, Dear, 

KMYlCX With song is never done. 

-5 These dazzling moments, Love, 

Though born of time and earth, 
Catch brightness from above 
And flood the hour with mirth. 

446 Fate this to me doth give: 
Sad night and sadder day; 
Near thee I may not live — 
I cannot live away. 

Oh, sorrow all too great, 
Oh, lot too hard to bear, 
Oh, cruel, cruel fate, 
And oh, this passion fair! 

447 If thou wouldst draw a veil 
About the heart that's free, 
Or shroud with gloom the hale 
Bright face of Liberty, 

Go mourn thy wisdom lost, 
And in the lairs of men 
Move with thy forehead crossed 
With "Fool," and "Fool" again, 

448 I would that earth again 
Were builded and I there 
With power to succor men 
And make their pathways fair; 
Or, failing this, to blot 
From life the mind of me, 
To be unknown, forgot — 
Or else be loved by thee. 



449 Some good red wine give me, d^m/IV 
A book of verses bright, X* 

A loaf of bread to fee QPU$ 

The grosser appetite, tf IMfr 

And thou to love me, Sweet, o""JJ 

All in a garden fair, — 
Gods knowing my retreat 
Would center heaven there! 

450 Truth hath no need to fear; 
She hunteth not belief, 
She flghteth with no spear, 
She bindeth up no sheaf; 
Yet all before her throne 
(Which no rude hand can shake) 
At last her prowess own, 

And love her for her sake. 

45 1 If sorrow thou wouldst flee, 
Press to thy brows her crown; 
Resign thyself, and she 
Will half forget to frown. 

And wouldst thou taste the wine 
Of earth's supremest wealth, 
Thank heaven thou dost dine 
With Honor and with Health. 

452 The roses are in blossom; 
Bring wine and quit your sighs; 
Come, fill your gloomy bosom 
With balm of paradise. 

Be happy — not tomorrow — 
Be happy, Sweet, today, 
Before the grip of Sorrow 
Snatch life itself away. 



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fttH&tf ^ e hypocrite no more; 
„ Delight in love and song, 

v|vC/ And shut the solid door 

On Grief and all her throng. 
Mohammed's laws be thine, 
But when our Ali pours 
Accept his proffered wine 
And bless what Joy adores. 

454 The world to those who love it 
Is nothing more than loss; 
To those who look above it 
'Tis something more than dross. 
Then why upon the bubble 
So fondly gaze, my friend, 
And fill thy days with trouble 
For what in smoke doth end? 

455 O Thou, Essence Unknown, 
To whom my soul is blind, 
To whom my heart is stone, 
Groping, I something find 
That bids me hope and trust 
This darkness yet may rise; 
That Thou art good and just; 
Hell less than paradise. 

456 Now while the fountains sing 
And every bird is gay, 
Vex not the mirth of spring 
Nor chide her roundelay; 
A breath of stormy wind 

1 Shall hurl thy roses far, 
And autumn surely find 
How many thorns there are. 



457 If Thou didst make me I, d^tttA? 

An Individual Soul, ^ 

Why wouldst Thou let me die \J>£' 

Into the mighty Whole? ft lift ft 

If purposing to slay, -3 

Why broughtest Thou me here, 
To strut my little day 
And then to disappear? 

458 Why dost Thou threaten me? 
Am I worth more in fear 
Than in the liberty 

Of Reason's golden sphere? 
Say, what were paradise 
If man be thus undone? 
A region where the wise 
Are lacking, barring none. 

459 Oh, heart, if thou wert dumb 
To many-headed Sin, 

Pure Soul wouldst thou become, 
And hope's high vantage win. 
Then what a shame and loss, 
With Beauty, oh, so near, 
In this vile house of dross 
To long have sojourn here. 

460 O Potter! cometh soon 
Thy busy wheel unto 
The head of Feridoun, 
The hand of Kai-Krossu. 
Beware! Degrade no more 
The helpless clay of men, 
Nor count amongst thy store 
That which may live again. 



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If life hath been a feast, 
What then hast thou to show, 
ti When this, thy mansion leased, 

Falls to the flood below? 
If thou hast lived an age, 
And live an age remote, 
Time blots thy little page 
And laughs at what he wrote. 

462 And canst thou tell me, Sweet, 
Why cypress-tree and rose 
Such fair renown do meet, 
And neither any foes? 
With many hands the tree 
Doth bless our silent tombs, 
With lips that fragrant be 
The rose doth kiss the glooms. 

463 Lo! the zephyr of eve 
Wafts the scent of the rose, 
And the nightingales grieve 
Wheresoever it goes. 
And the soul of the flower, 
Through the heart of the bird, 
Re-impassions the Power 
As the fragrance is heard! 

464 Alas ! for Summer has flown, 
Alas, this leafless tree; 
Alas, that I have grown 
The laugh of time to be. 
The sum of joy I sought, 
The melody of spring; 
Alas, I little thought 
How death shrouds everything. 



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465 With this or that how long <f)tft&£ 
Shall we disturb our wit — _- 

If life be but a song \J>£' 

Or just a dream T>f it? 

The breath I now breathe in, 

Perchance, I breathe not out. 

Bring wine! I'll not begin 

To question joy with doubt. 

466 In this proud house of life 
Drink deep, philosopher, 
Of the strong wine of strife 
And be Love's worshipper; 
And wheresoe'er thy dust 
Through this wild world may blow, 
There strength shall spring and trust 
And every virtue grow. 



Here endeth OMAR RESUNG, being 
verses by Charles G. Blanden, after the 
prose translation of the R UB AIT AT of 
Omar Khayyam, as set forth by Justin 
Huntly McCarthy, M. P. The cover, 
title page and end papers were designed 
by Frank B.Rae, Jr. The whole being 
printed and sold by Langworthy & Stev- 
ens at the House of the Blue Sky Press, 
4732 Kenwood Avenue in Chicago, Illi- 
nois. Done in September, MCMI. 



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